Discontinuity
by PodBayDoors
Summary: What would happen if Jack got stuck in an altered timeline- alone? Lots of sci-fi in this one. Sam & Jack established. Vague spoilers for Continuum. NOW COMPLETE and updated with an ALTERNATE ENDING for astronaut Sam. Thanks for reading!
1. Single Displacement Reaction

Stargate SG-1and SGA and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime / Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author.

This story assumes S & J established, set sometime in S4 of Atlantis. What would happen if it was Jack who got stuck in an altered timeline- all by himself? Vague spoilers for _Continuum. **THIS STORY IS NOW COMPLETE, INCLUDING AN ALTERNATIVE ENDING STARTING WITH CHAPTER 7 (4.2 AND ALL THE SCIENCE)**_

Is that an _alternate _alternate universe?

This chapter is all Jack, all the time!

* * *

**Single-displacement reaction**: When an element or molecule moves out of one compound and into another.

* * *

Jack had no idea how long he'd been unconscious when he awoke to a crushing headache and an immediate urge to go back to sleep- but he knew that sure as hell wasn't going to happen. Not only because of the vise-like pain but also because of the annoying fact that he had no clue where he was since the last thing he remembered was coming home from the new facilities at the Alpha Site, and now he was who knows where, listening to people whom he couldn't understand. 

And Hammond had said this was going to be a desk job. Right.

He finally managed to force open his eyes and saw small cluster of USAF personnel talking with officers of an unknown nationality and rank. To a person, they turned and looked at him as if he were one of Daniel's more interesting specimens, and a man bearing more stars than O'Neill quickly walked to Jack's bedside. "General O'Neill." He extended his hand, and then dropped it, seeing that Jack was in no position to shake it. "I'm General Rogers.""

"Sorry." Jack grimaced. Fresh slivers of pain rewarded his efforts to speak, slamming his eyes shut.

Rogers studied Jack. He really wished they hadn't had to let the drugs wear off, but it was a military necessity, and he figured O'Neill would understand that. Or maybe not. "It's all right, you've been through a great deal." He paused, thoughtfully. "Actually, O'Neill, we don't really know what you've been through, or even who you are."

"Jack O'Neill, USAF. Call 'em and ask."

"We did." Rogers replied. "You should have at least picked a _live_ officer to impersonate."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Less pain now, Jack could think, and he didn't like what he was hearing.

"Jack O'Neill shot himself years ago."

"Yeah?" Jack made a mental note to remind the Pentagon that telling people he was dead was _not_ a really good cover story.

"Yeah." The general quietly appraised Jack.

"What I do is classified." He dared open his eyes again, more slowly this time.

"I have the highest clearance."

Jack sighed. "No, you don't." He really hoped that this guy _was_ a real American officer, and not God-knew-what impersonating an American officer, because right about now things could get ugly.

Rogers studied him closely. "You know what, O'Neill? Considering where we found you, I might have to believe you."

"Good." _Real good._ The room began to tilt and then the world fuzzed out again before Jack could wonder exactly "where we found you" was.

The next morning Jack sat in bed, trying to eat what appeared to be Jell-O, but was well on its way to being Kool-Aid. The nurse came by, and Jack managed a smile, his headache much reduced from the day before. "Where am I?"

"Incrilik AFB, Turkey."

"_What_?"

The nurse shook her head. "I don't know how you got here, General O'Neill. I only know you weren't assigned to any Mid-East command, yet here you are. With a head injury." The nurse hesitated. "Do you remember anything?"

He shook his head. "I can't remember if I have amnesia or not."

She smiled. "General Rogers is eager to speak with you. May I call him?"

Jack shrugged. "What's the date?" She replied and he tacked on a couple of days for being out cold before deciding he wasn't involved in any time travel, thank God, because he knew without Carter around to figure out how to ride a solar flare home, he'd be stuck. But Jack wasn't all that worried about being stuck anywhere. He'd just turned up somewhere rather odd, which had happened from time to time, but at least he was on earth and as soon as they spoke with the Pentagon, he'd be out of this over-heated hotel and home.

The General and his retinue returned. "O'Neill, we contacted all of the people of whom you spoke. The Chairman, General Landry, General Hammond and," he looked down at the list, "Colonel Carter." He paused. "Not one would admit to knowing you."

"You talked to _Carter?_"

"We've been in contact with her. O'Neill, I must advise you that we are considering placing you in confinement as a possible hostile, unless you can give me a reason not to."

"Look, I'm in charge of something called Home World Security."

"That's Chertoff's job."

Jack shook his head. "You'd all be out of a job if it wasn't for what my people do. Actually, you'd be out of a_ life_."

"Your people at Stargate Command?" Rogers queried. Jack remembered, now. He'd been wearing BDUs at the Alpha Site like he always did when he went off-world. Dammit.

"A long time ago I learned two very important things: First: Don't tell everything you know."

Rogers regarded him for a moment, and then laughed wryly. "When you're well, I need a full statement and an explanation of the items you carried with you."

Jack was tired of all questions and no answers. "I haven't even started to procrastinate."

"Too bad. Until then, there'll be armed guards outside the infirmary door."

Jack evaluated the SFs. No zats, just ordinary projectile-based weaponry. He decided to behave himself, more or less.

That afternoon Jack was escorted to an interrogation room where, to his great surprise, he saw Radek Zelenka along with General Rogers. "Zelenka!" Jack extended his hand enthusiastically. "I've never been so damned glad to see a scientist in all my life." Which wasn't even _close _to true, but he was still pretty happy given the circumstances.

Dr. Zelenka just stared at him and didn't shake the proffered hand. "I do not know you. I am simply the nearest NATO physical scientist."

"Yeah. Czechoslovakia." Jack's knowledge of world geography had improved considerably in the last three years.

Zelenka's face registered his shock. "I do not know you, General O'Neill."

O'Neill sighed. "Of _course_ not." He sat down heavily, knowing full well that Radek couldn't lie to save his life, or anyone else's for that matter.

"You say you're from Stargate Command," Rogers began.

"No, _you_ say that."

"Is that the thing under which you were found?" Rogers continued, "A stargate?"

Jack shrugged. "Anything is possible if you don't know what you're talking about."

Rogers sighed and motioned Radek to continue. He fanned out a set of satellite photos. "Here you can see the first pass. And here, the second, right around the time they were called by the Egyptians about you." The dark circle in the ground was obvious, as was the steel ring surrounding it.

The pictures shook Jack to his core, but he didn't so much as blink. "I don't have a solution, but I do admire the problem."

Rogers slammed his hand down on the table. "O'Neill, you got us in a shitload of trouble with the Egyptians. And not only that, they won't let us near that ring. I don't know who you are or where you came from, but I have to know if that thing presents a risk to our national security."

Jack snorted. "Does it ever. Rogers, you ought to just bury the damn thing and forget you ever met me."

"Oh, I'd like to, believe me." Rogers replied, "But it's not that easy."

"What does the ring do, General? It seems to have vaporized the ground beneath the orifice." Radek tapped on the photos.

Jack nodded. "Efficient little sucker, isn't it?"

"How did you get in there?"

Jack looked at them both. It was obvious this wasn't his world- this gate had been buried until he, with his usual _perfect_ timing and luck, came through it. It seemed like a real stretch to think this whole scenario was an alien mock-up, especially with Radek- or whomever he was- here. And Rogers seemed willing to give Jack the benefit of the doubt, which was an extraordinary thing all by itself. "Look, guys, I think we're on the same page here, just different parts of it."

"What do you want, O'Neill?" Rogers opened his hands wide in exasperation. "We have to know about this."

Jack nodded. They did. And it's not as if he could help them get it up and running. He wasn't useful, like…

"I want to talk to Colonel Carter."

Rogers evaluated Jack. "You can't. Not from here."

"Why?"

"She's the Commander of Atlantis."

Jack sat bolt upright, his heart pounding. "Wait! She is- you said you didn't _know_ about the stargate program."

"We don't- you're supposed to tell us." Rogers was alarmed by the change in his demeanor.

"How'd you find _Atlantis_? Without the stargates or hyperdrive? And you talked to Carter?"

Zelenka and Rogers looked at each other. "Well, yeah," Zelenka said, slowly, watching Jack, "She's the Commander of the shuttle Atlantis, STS 141. She's at the International Space Station right now."

--------------------------------------------------

Four hours later, they had finished with O'Neill's interrogation. He'd tried to explain about the wormhole vortex and the zat gun to the best of his ability, but, "Just press once to stun and twice to kill," didn't impress them much. Rogers stood up. "I hope you've been straight, O'Neill. Honesty is the best policy."

"Yeah, but insanity is a better defense." Jack smiled. "Fortunately, this story covers me from both angles."

That night, in the spartan room that wasn't quite a cell, O'Neill reflected on the past few days. He knew he wasn't in either the right: a. timeline or b. place or c. reality or d. all of the above. In the past, he'd been in all three at one time or another but had someone else there to figure out what was going on, and he pretty much went along with whatever else she said. Everyone had their place when he'd been on SG-1: Teal'c the repository of knowledge of all things Goa'uld and impressive warrior; Daniel the linguist, historian, archeologist and general pain in the ass; and Carter, the compassionate genius who nevertheless knew exactly where to put a pound of C4 for maximum impact. She also knew where to put a few other things for maximum impact, too, but Jack really didn't want to dwell on that right now given that there were security cameras in the room.

And then there was Jack O'Neill. He could never exactly pinpoint what it was that made him so valuable beyond a willingness to do whatever it took to accomplish the mission and get everyone back home in one piece. These days, he got to practice that particular skill set only on paper, until now. And he also had the nagging feeling that this time those skills alone weren't going to get himself home in one piece.

Jack lay back on the long, thin bed that reminded him of his Academy dorm room only with no noise, and thought about the possibilities. Everything passed the sniff test in terms of authenticity. The absence of glowy eyes, perfect American English right down to the cuss words, and references to some pretty obscure stuff had convinced him that he was definitely on earth. The apparently genuine nurse gave him the right date. That left only two possibilities- an alternate reality or a different timeline. Jack really didn't know how to tell the difference between the two, but he thought that would be a pretty important thing to know, and she'd know if she were here. But she wasn't.

And that fact was really starting to bother Jack, because even if Sam didn't have the answer (which was rare, _damned_ rare) he'd at least feel better with her around. What got to him wasn't that she wasn't there- that was the case more often than not since he'd stupidly agreed to her transfer to Atlantis- but that _he didn't know where she was._

The fact that he didn't know where _he_ was didn't seem to bother him nearly as much.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Eventually, Jack was transferred to Cheyenne Mountain for further interrogation, which went easily since he was able to tell the truth for a change. The most shocking thing, however were the results of his physical exam.

"This can't be faked." Dr Lam stated with certainty. "This is a completely unknown mineral. He appears very healthy despite this unusual marker so it isn't a manifestation of disease." Dr. Lam took a deep breath and finished her report to the officers assembled before her in the briefing room. "This man has had a long and difficult medical past, and his very unusual injuries correspond to his statements." She stopped, peered at her notes, and continued very carefully. "Including injuries he sustained in Special Forces during the '80s and early 90's, as well as the dental records we have from thirteen years ago."

In other words, Jack O'Neill was alive and well and telling the truth.

He sat in General Hammond's office for his final debriefing. Jack guessed the lack of SGC-related stress allowed George to keep working a few years longer in this reality. No one threatening his family, no alien invasions, no unwittingly sending teams to their doom. That kind of thing aged a person, Jack knew.

"O'Neill, I don't have to tell you how worked up you've gotten the entire Air Force."

"I'm improving, then. Usually I only irritate small segments at a time."

George sat down opposite Jack with a tolerant sigh. "We may want you back some day, Jack, if what you say turns out to be true."

"Don't let 'em activate the gate." Jack stated flatly. "We were just lucky. I've seen a lot of other realities and they were _all_ screwed."

"So you say, Jack, but if we don't, and they find us anyway, we won't have the technology to defend ourselves. It's a Catch-22." Jack sat back in his chair. These people just didn't understand what was out there, and he knew that the reincarnation of a dead officer wasn't about to convince them.

Hammond smiled wryly. "O'Neill, I've come to like you over the last few weeks. One word of advice- don't hold out on us."

"That's _five_ words," Jack said, "and my conscience is clear."

"A clear conscience can be the sign of a bad memory." George hesitated. "If your memory improves, come to me first. Do you understand?"

Jack appreciated the concern- just like the George Hammond he always knew. "Yes George. To err is human, to forgive is against Air Force policy."

George smiled as he stood up to shake Jack's hand. "It would have been interesting to work with you."

"It was, George." Jack smiled. _You have absolutely no idea how interesting._

Jack was granted his release two weeks after his arrival, four weeks after arriving in Egypt. The Air Force wanted him available in case the Egyptian Antiquities Authority ever gave up the stargate, despite the fact that Jack told them repeatedly to leave it alone. To that end, he retired again, got a new identity and a warning to make his whereabouts known at all times. It was all surprisingly efficient considering he'd always thought the only way the government cut red tape was lengthwise.

Jack stepped out into the bright Colorado sunshine a free man. Free of everyone and everything he'd known, despite the fact that they surrounded him. It was disquieting and yeah, he had to admit, he was worried. Very worried. Things had not gone well.

He drove his brand-new truck to the library, logged on and found the NASA website. STS 141- now that was interesting since in his world they were only up to STS 120-something. He smiled, remembering how Kinsey had always bitched about the money that the SGC drained from the budget and guessed some of it must be going to NASA, now. Constructing a moon base, too- now _that_ was sweet. He clicked through the site until he found the crew photos, literally holding his breath while he scanned the page.

And there she was. Commander Samantha Carter. Reflexively, his fingers touched the screen for a moment as he stared at the image of her in the orange jumpsuit, an expedition cap covering her golden hair. Heart thudding against his chest, Jack quickly found the mission fact sheet, got what he needed and left.

Sam Carter lifted two bags of groceries out of the car and shut the door closed with her foot. She noted that the geraniums at the foot of the mailbox post were pretty pathetic and reminded herself again not to rely on Eastern Front rainfall while she was on a trip. She smiled and looked up at the sky. Oh, but what a trip it had been.

"It's pretty up there, isn't it?"

Sam startled and spilled one bag as a tall man with steel-grey hair walked down the sidewalk to stand at the foot of her walkway.

"Um, yeah." she studied him. "Do I know you?" Unwanted admirers often plagued the most beautiful astronaut in the program, but none had ever followed her home.

"I don't know." Jack replied, soaking in a sight he was starting to think he'd never see again. "I know you."


	2. Stereoisomers

**Stereoisomers**: two molecules that are related to each other by a reflection: they are mirror images of each other.

* * *

_Jack replied, "I know you,"_

"Lots of people do."

"That's a switch."

"What?"

An apple came to rest at Jack's feet. He picked it up and smiled, remembering. "You taught me about wormhole theory."

"Ah." Sam nodded in recognition. "I _do_ know you. You're the guy they found in Egypt."

"My reputation exceeds me."

"How did you know where I live?"

"I've known for years, Carter." He said it casually, as if she shouldn't be surprised at all.

The tone of his voice disturbed her more than his words. "What can I help you with?" She noticed that he hadn't made a single step up the walk- he just stood there with the apple in his hand. But Jack knew all about trespassing, concealed weapons, justifiable homicide and what a great shot she was; and he wasn't about to give her a reason to show just how much she knew about those subjects, too.

"A couple of things. I need to convince you not to help out with the stargate, and I need you to get me out of here."

Sam studied him carefully. _Just because he's handsome doesn't mean he's not crazy._

"What can I do to convince you?" Jack tossed the apple in the air and caught it. He spotted the garage. "You like motorcycles."

"That's on my NASA bio."

"It's an Indian. Very rare. You also speed but the cops tend to give you warnings- with their phone numbers written on the back." Jack suppressed a grin. "Not that you ever call them back."

"How do you know about that?" she looked up, a bottle in her hand, eyes wide.

"I know a lot about you, Samantha Carter." Her name caught in his throat as Jack suddenly wondered how the hell he ever thought he'd be able to deal with this. He should have waited, should have given it more thought. What it all meant, what it would be like instead of running to her as if she were his salvation.

And Jack never even considered that she might prove to be his downfall.

She straightened up and studied him for a moment. "Come in, then. But at least pick up those apples."

"Yes, ma'am." Jack picked up the fruit. "As long as you leave that gun in the coffee table. I'm not going to hurt you."

She stood with her handle on the doorknob, and looked at him for a long moment. "No you're not."

Jack didn't know if that meant she trusted him or that she could kick his ass. He hoped both were still true as he followed her into the house and then into the kitchen. He almost opened the pantry to put away the apples because she didn't like them in the fridge, but he stopped himself and laid them on the counter.

She stood warily on the other side of it. "Why don't you have a seat in the living room?" Sam kept an eye on him as she stowed the apples in the pantry.

Jack walked over to a chair and sat in it as if he'd done it a hundred times before- which he had. She observed him, her head tilted to the side, trying to figure out how to talk to a delusional man who still seemed completely logical, knew things no one should have known, and understood theoretical astrophysics that a flyboy like him shouldn't have a clue about.

Meanwhile, Jack watched her break his heart into little pieces.

Finally, she sat down opposite him, took her semiautomatic out of the coffee table and laid it on the armrest, her hand resting on top of it.

"So, Jonathan O'Neill, what's the story?"

"It's Archer. I had to change it since evidently I'm dead."

Sam shook her head. That was it- classic mania with delusions of grandeur. She wondered how the psychiatrists could have missed it. "So now you're the captain of the Enterprise."

"Kirk was too obvious, and Archer's better looking, don't you think?" Jack smiled. "The cloak-and-dagger types told me to keep my first name since people slip up with a new one. Besides, I go by Jack. No one noticed."

Sam smiled. "Okay, _Jack_ O'Neill," Sam waved her hand, encouraging him to talk, "they gave me a brief rundown, but I want to hear it from you." She wasn't going to play into his fantasy by calling him "sir."

He hadn't had her call him "sir" in years.

"I'm diagonally parked in a parallel universe."

Sam laughed, her voice sparkling through the room in a way that made Jack's chest hurt. "Look, you're the expert on this kind of thing. I'm just a former pilot and soldier who spends his days pushing paper and risking everybody's life except my own. Until four weeks ago."

"And what happened then?"

"I came from a routine evaluation of the Alpha Site on P2X-645…"

"What's that?"

"The Alpha site?"

"No, no- I know what that is. Those numbers."

Jack looked at her directly. "It's a planet. We travel by wormholes to get there." He paused. "We've been to hundreds."

Sam looked at him without any expression at all.

"This is the part where you tell me I'm nuts," Jack reminded her.

"No, this is the part where I'm jealous beyond belief because I've never even left Earth orbit." Sam smiled. "I wish you were right."

"I am, Carter."

She nodded. "Look, I believe it's theoretically possible. When they called me about you I started thinking…"

"Uh oh." Jack couldn't help himself.

Sam tilted her head. There it was again- the warm, almost fond tone to his voice that didn't fit at all with the circumstances. She shook it off and went on, "…and reading the newest literature, and maybe it can happen. But why you? Where'd you come from?"

"Another timeline, or reality, or something." Jack shrugged. "I can't tell yet."

"I'm supposed to believe you were in wormhole travel and alternate realities all in the same day?" _Talk about delusions of grandeur._

Jack shrugged. "You're the brains. You always explained it to _me._"

"Me?"

Jack nodded. "You made the stargate work, Carter. You've been to dozens of those worlds, most of them with me."

"You?"

"Yeah. You were a captain and then a major on my team. You became a colonel after I was promoted. You saved my ass more times than I can count."

"I did?" The thought of leaving her nice, tidy lab and spacecraft with all their lovely doohickeys seemed anathema to Sam. The thought of saving his ass did have its attractions, however.

Jack didn't know how much to tell her. He didn't want her to freak out, though somehow he knew she could handle almost anything. Almost. "Your Dad's name is Jacob, your brother's name is Mark. Jacob died…eight years ago. You've always wanted to be an astronaut."

"That's all public knowledge."

"You like Jell-O- especially blue Jell-O. You bite your lip when you're nervous. You're great shot. That's not public knowledge."

Sam just stared at him. "How do you know this?" Her voice was nearly a whisper. She also noticed that he'd never looked at the gun the entire time she'd had it out. Not once.

"I know _you._" Jack suddenly saw an image illuminated as if by lightning- of her head tossed back, his arms around her waist, the sound of a weapon rattling to the floor but the memory flashed out just before Jack could remember if he pushed up her shirt looking for an entrance wound or to press his mouth to her skin.

_Shit. _ Jack knew post-traumatic stress disorder when he saw it. - _felt_it. He couldn't breath again until she spoke.

"Would you like something to drink? I think I really need one." Sam rose, taking the gun with her. She turned around when he didn't answer. "Hey- O'Neill."

Jack's practiced look of casual interest slipped across his face like it had a thousand times before. "None of that weak crap. Diet coke's okay."

She stood in the kitchen and stared at him. "You know what I like to _drink_?"

Damn. _Think_. "Well, I was your CO for eight years, Carter."

Sam sighed and got out a coke for him and Coors for her, handed it to him and sat down. Jack noticed the gun stayed in the kitchen. "Eight years. Did we get along?"

He nodded. At that point he was almost afraid to elaborate, waiting for another image to come crashing into his unsuspecting mind. "You helped develop the hyperdrive systems for our faster-than-light ships, too."

Sam didn't know what to believe. Everything he said made perfect sense and no sense at all, and the way he talked to her was just- odd. As if he'd known her for years. Stranger still, that feeling didn't bother her in the least.

"Come on, Carter, it's all theoretically possible. Isn't it?"

"In theory, theory and practice are the same. In practice, they aren't."

"I know. That's why I'm stuck here. I've seen plenty of theories go bad, even yours." Jack smiled, "But I never saw anything you couldn't fix."

Sam rubbed her eyes. "I need to think about this. Where are you staying?"

"The Crowne Plaza."

"Oh, well, the Broadmoor must have been full," Sam said sarcastically.

"Yeah. Your tax dollars at work," he smirked. "Hopefully I won't be here too long."

Sam briefly and inexplicably hoped he would. Then she got up and showed him to the door. "How about I meet you for lunch tomorrow? At the hotel, maybe noon?"

"I'll have to check my schedule." Jack said dryly. He let himself out, walked out to the street and got in his truck. Jack put his head back on the headrest and stared at the streetlights for a very long time, and then he finally started up the truck and drove off.

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Jack wrote down another word and then checked his watch. 12:15. He sighed. It seemed like much of his life had been spent waiting for Sam Carter, in one way or another.

_Give me a minute sir, just one more minute._

_Carter!_

_Not yet sir… not yet…_

_Carter! I can see my house _or_ can I be the hologram next time _or_ can we blow this…_

"Thanks for waiting," she said.

"What?" Jack startled.

Sam stood in front of him. "They faxed over more of your files to me, and it does make for fascinating reading."

"Fascinating wouldn't be the first word that comes to _my _mind."

"I suppose not." Sam looked down at him thoughtfully. "How are you feeling today?" He certainly looked fine, very fine, in fact. Blue jeans, black cotton sweater and white t-shirt, an amazing complement to his short silver hair. Sam found herself wondering again why she was attracted to the lunatic fringe. He stood and she thought he looked taller today- or maybe it was just that they were so close.

A fact that didn't bother either of them in the least.

Jack was touched that she would be concerned about how he was feeling, considering her she'd been leading a normal astronaut's life- _now that's an oxymoron-_ until he met her. "Things are more like today than they've ever been before." He smiled a little and motioned with the newspaper. "How about the grill?"

"I was thinking more the café, it's got a better view."

"Nah. Too noisy."

"Are we going to have to arm wrestle over it?" Sam smiled, her arms crossed.

Jack looked at her in stunned silence. "Uh, the café it is, then." They walked over to the restaurant, and he motioned her in. "Ladies first," he said quietly.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked as they were seated by the window.

Jack looked out at the street. From what he could see, this version of Colorado Springs was the same as his own. "Yeah, I'm fine. You- I- just remembered something, that's all." Jack turned to look at her. Except for the faint scar on her left forehead that was missing, they were identical. Right down to the way she incessantly tapped his pencil on the table. Without thinking, he took the pencil back in a manner Sam felt was altogether too familiar.

Jack toyed with it absentmindedly. "Do you ever wonder why, if everyone uses #2 pencils, they aren't #1 by now?"

"The thought never crossed my mind."

"It's probably the only thought that hasn't, Carter."

"Call me Sam, please. This is hardly official business."

He didn't want to call her Sam. That name was taken. "All right, Sam it is."

Sam watched him look back out the window, almost as if he didn't want to look at her. Yesterday he'd seemed so concerned that she believe him- and she still wasn't sure she did- that he was animated, even upbeat- but not today. Sam decided that even if O'Neill _was_ nuts, he needed a friend, and if he wasn't, he needed one even more. "Since you know all about me, how about telling me about yourself?"

"Don't you already know everything?"

"I doubt you told the Air Force everything, Jack. Tell me something that doesn't have to do with- the- program."

He noticed the hesitation in her voice. "Still don't believe me?"

"Everything you told me is theoretically possible, but I need more details, Jack- as much as you can remember."

He shook his head. "You don't get it, Sam. I'm so dense light bends around me."

"Obviously, Jack, you just _play_ dumb. And you're still avoiding my question."

Fortunately, the waiter temporarily rescued Jack, and they ordered. Unfortunately, Sam had an air of infinite patience about her. He sighed in surrender. "Well, I like to fish. I have a cabin in Minnesota that's on this great little pond, and…" a sudden look of alarm crossed his face. "God. I don't have it anymore, do I? I wonder if Sara still does."

"We could find out, Jack." Sam said, concerned. Her plan to cheer him up had backfired impressively.

"No, don't." He looked at Sam with a pained expression. "I can't go up there again. I probably can't even visit Charlie's grave, can I?"

"No, because you're buried right next to him." Sam said quietly. "I had to see for myself. In fact, I'm not sure you should even be in this city."

"What a goddamn mess, Sam." He turned to stare out the window again.

"Jack, what are you going to do about her?"

"What do you mean?" His head snapped back.

She looked at the ring on his finger. "Aren't you still married?"

It took Jack a few seconds to figure out what was happening. "No, not her." _You._

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"What?" In his wildest dreams Jack could not imagine a more surreal conversation. He'd think it was fucking hilarious if it wasn't actually happening.

"You've been dead for over a decade, here. She can't possibly know you, wherever she is."

Jack stared at her. "No, I'm sure she can't."

Normally a compassionate person, Sam was nevertheless alarmed by the fact that she felt so utterly compelled to do something to set Jack's mind at ease. Without thinking, she touched his hand. "Can I help, Jack?"

He blacked out and there was nothing but the touch of her cool hand in the searing blue heat and God, the pain. Jack couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything, he could only feel the heat, the pain that pinned him to the wall, and her hand. He was dying, he knew. But she was there.

The feeling washed over him and left Jack shuddering as he dropped his gaze to her hand. He met Sam's eyes with a look that stole her breath from the pain and longing contained in it- so intense it seemed to have forced its way out through a fissure in his soul; and then it was gone. But not before Sam got the clear feeling that she wasn't the recipient of that look so much as the cause of it, and she couldn't figure out what it was that she'd done wrong.

The waiter brought their drinks and Jack picked up his beer as if the previous few minutes had never happened. "Guess I'm the one who needs the beer, today," he toasted her.

"Well, if I'm going to help you, you can't expect me to drink and derive." Sam said, trying to salvage the conversation.

Jack put his beer down with a smile. "Great. Bad math jokes. You know I don't get those."

"No, I don't know that."

He sighed. "Sorry, Sam. I wish we could start this conversation over." He motioned the waiter over for another beer. "But I guess it's all just water under the dam, now."

Sam wondered if he was ever serious, but decided now was not the time to ask as the waiter arrived. She eyed Jack's steak with amusement. "Lunch?"

"Hey," he said, poking his fork at her, "I'm not at the top of the food chain just so I can be a vegetarian." He sawed off a chunk. "One night, you- your other self- ate four of these."

"I did?" Sam didn't quite believe that one.

"Yeah. We needed the energy because we had these idiot magic alien devices that…" Jack stopped cold and looked at her. "We almost died."

"It sounds like that happened a lot, Jack."

"This was different." He didn't say anything more and Sam didn't ask. She was left with the unsettling feeling that her memory had a ten-year gap in it that she'd never be able to fill.

After dinner Jack finished off his fifth beer. "I think you've had too much," Sam nodded at the empty glass and then stood up, offering her hand. "Come on, let's get you up to your room. We're not going to get any work done today."

"I can take care of myself, Sam." Jack got up. "You've done enough." Sam hesitated, trying to read sarcasm into his words, and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Sorry, I read the other Jack's records, too." She put her hand on his arm and guided him out of the café and up to his room, and waited as he tried to get the door open.

"Are you going to be all right?"

"I'm laying even odds." He straightened up looked at her with such affection that it would have melted her heart had she known the context of it- but as it was, it just disturbed her. "Samantha. God, I missed you," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her in a sudden embrace.

Sam didn't move or even breathe as he held her. After several moments, he lifted his head and touched her face gently, then turned and disappeared into his room. Sam stood there wondering what the hell had just happened.


	3. Quantum Entanglement

**Quantum entanglement** is a phenomenon in which the states of two objects have to be described with reference to each other, even though the objects may be separated.

* * *

Jack woke to the soft sound of fast typing. He sat up and found Sam at the table surrounded by stacks of documents, staring intently at her laptop screen, fingers flying. 

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm assigning a numerical value to each one of your statements about this reality in an attempt to quantify…"

"I mean- oh never mind." Jack rubbed his face.

"I took the card right out of your hand." Sam smiled.

"Damn sneaky."

"Yes." She looked down at her papers. "I felt responsible."

"Well, don't." Jack stood up and stretched. "What do we have here?"

Sam turned the computer as he sat down next to her. "I've been trying to figure out if you jumped to a parallel universe or if the timeline was deliberately altered."

"Oh God, don't let it be that." Jack shook his head. "That really sucks."

"You _do_ understand this."

"You talked me into a stupor about this crap more times than I can count."

"Then I have bad news for you, because I think the timeline changed."

"I think that's bad news for _you_." Jack looked at her, not smiling.

Sam tilted her head. "Don't you think it's all academic at this point?"

"It's never been just academic for me."

Sam nodded. "I guess not, Jack. I'm sorry. It's just that I've never really met someone like you before."

Jack wondered what she meant by that.

Sam tapped the screen. "Our realities are very close."

_Not as close as you think._ "Okay, genius, what's the story?" Jack put his hands behind his head and geared up to pay attention.

"Whatever happened was very abrupt and was confined to you and the Stargate program."

Jack noticed how she didn't hesitate to use the "s" word this time, and that gave him hope. "Yeah, mostly all we did was prevent bad stuff from happening. That's why this reality is so close. We neutralized the threats and you never had any." He shook his head. "So I told them to leave it in the ground."

"What if that means you never get back? What if it's connected to the change in timeline?"

He shrugged. "It's never been before." _I'll get back. You'll get me there._

Sam looked at him with concern. "But what about your wife, Jack? You're married."

Her words seemed to echo in the small room.

"No. Not really. Not anymore."

Sam waited for him to say something, but he didn't. "You mean because she's not here."

"Leave it, Carter."

She studied him for a while longer, then gave up and turned back to the computer. "Whatever happened, happened right before you died." She looked at him. "That sounded odd."

"I've heard that kind of thing before. So, that would explain the stargate in the dirt in Egypt. But it was first found way back in the thirties, Sam."

Sam was relieved that his mood wasn't spiraling back down the drain again. "Yeah. Someone put it back, just as it became operational."

"How do you know?"

Sam bit her lip. "Some of your associates were killed then, Jack. Katherine Langford."

"God." Jack shook his head. "What about Daniel?"

"He's okay."

Jack sighed and sat back. "You could have been killed, too, Sam."

"The papers only mention an accident at Cheyenne Mountain, and some casualties. But I do remember rumors at the Pentagon about an interesting ancient artifact- then the talk just stopped and I forgot about it."

"If at first you don't succeed, destroy all the evidence that you tried." Jack sighed. "But why the hell would they put it _back_?"

Sam shrugged. "To find it again someday?"

Jack looked at her for a moment. "They wouldn't need to. There's another gate."

Sam stared at him, shocked nearly speechless. "Why- why didn't you tell me?"

"Did you ever let the cat out of the bag and then try to put it back in?"

Sam abruptly stood and gathered her papers, shoving them into her briefcase along with her laptop.

"Sam. I'm sorry."

"Go to hell or wherever it is that you came from, O'Neill! I believed you, I trusted you, but you don't trust me. I've been working my ass off for you and I don't even know _why_- and now you tell me I don't even have all the facts." Her eyes flashed as she headed for the door.

Jack beat her to it. "I did it to protect us." He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her toward him. "I did it to protect _you._"

"Why do you care?"

"I told you." Jack dropped his hands and looked steadily into those oh-so-familiar blue eyes. "I've known you for years."

"That's it?" she asked, remembering their encounter in the hallway, and how she'd felt at lunch.

Jack regarded her in silence for a moment. "I can't explain it."

"Well, call me when you can." She slipped out the door.

He got a coke out of the minibar and found some aspirin in his shaving kit. Between the parallel universe discussion and the booze, his headache was at Defcon1. He sat in a chair near the window, put his feet up and watched the sun set behind the hills, the traffic snaking up and down Academy Drive as it wound its way up the hill.

She wasn't his Sam. Ten years of the most remarkable history in- well, all of human history- was hard to replace. And God, how he missed her. The weeks were slipping by and the need to hold her, talk with her, and feel her body under his hands wasn't going away- it was getting stronger. Jack heard the pop can crack. God, he going fucking nuts- flashbacks, getting drunk. Being imprisoned on an Air Force base seemed a whole lot more comforting right now than being on his own. He relaxed his grip on it before it spilled onto the floor, and poured it into a nearby glass.

No she wasn't his Sam- just awfully goddamn close. She was an astronaut, the head of the physics department at the Academy, the first female shuttle Commander and the photogenic poster child for NASA. _Hey, what's not to love?_ He drank his coke and watched the stars come out.

Jack spent the next several days on the phone and computer and found that, much to his dismay, having worked in covert ops meant all of his former associates were, well, _covert._ From a vantage point of twelve years later, it was impossible to locate anyone he'd known before he entered the Stargate Program. That is, before he died. Jack rubbed his neck, and guessed it was for the best anyway. Sam the physicist could accept that he was from a different timeline. Jack, of course was used to people popping in and out of existence- but his former colleagues only saw people pop out. Permanently. He sighed. He just really needed someone on the inside who could tell him what was going on with the gate.

He really needed Sam Carter. She was the only one to help him out of the mess he was in- though it wasn't always clear to Jack what exactly the mess was. He just needed her and that was about as much as he could figure out. And he really needed to go fishing. Logically, then, he really needed to take Sam Carter fishing.

It didn't take too long for Jack to find his favorite store downtown, exactly where it should have been. Jack much preferred lake fishing to fly fishing, since the former involved more sitting and drinking than the latter, but there wasn't much choice in this part of Colorado and he couldn't go to Minnesota. He put the new gear in the back of the truck and called Sam.

"Hey, Sam."

"Jack? How did you get my number?"

"I know it."

Sam was very quiet for a moment. "What do you want, Jack?"

"To take you fishing. I know you're not big on spontaneity, but…"

"I can be spontaneous. I just need a little advance warning."

Jack laughed out loud for the first time in weeks, and Sam was grateful he couldn't see her blush. "I'll give you as long as it takes for me to get over there, all right?"

He hung up leaving Sam to stare at the phone wondering why she didn't think he was the most presumptuous man on the planet, and why her heart was beating that way.

Sam handed Jack a plastic box as they headed out to the truck. "Put this in the cooler."

"What is it?"

"Food." Sam opened the passenger-side door. "You didn't bring any, did you? Besides maybe potato chips?"

Jack leaned into the truck bed, wondering how the hell she knew that. "No. Thanks." He shut the lid to the cooler and climbed in the cab. "Know how to fish?"

"Are you kidding? You know my Dad."

Jack looked at her. Sam didn't say anything more. "I did. He was a great guy. He thought you were the best thing ever."

"That never happened here." Sam said, her eyes tearing up.

"I know."

"I'd change the timeline just for that." She looked down to fasten the seatbelt. "Mark's there, right?"

"Yeah." Jack put his hand to her face slowly, and brushed away a few of the tears. "Anyone else you want to know about? Friends? Movie stars? Pets?" He held his breath.

His hand felt as warm and natural as sunlight on her face, and she smiled just a little. "No, that covers the essentials."

"Okay, then." Jack said, pulling away from the curb. "Let's spend the afternoon freezing our feet and untangling line."

It was far enough to the South Platte that Jack figured they'd get there in the evening, just about when the fishing would be getting better again. He wasn't a talkative man, but it gave him the opportunity to talk with Sam since he had a rule about talking while fly fishing, which was: No talking while fly fishing.

"So what's it like to command a shuttle?"

"Nothing compared to what you've flown, I'm sure."

"Actually, somebody usually beat me to it." Jack said with great remorse.

"That's too bad, especially on those long trips. What did you do with yourself?"

"I was pretty much useless until the shooting started." Jack glanced at her. "You've racked up quite a few flights pretty fast. How come?"

"Well, I'm not just sitting around, useless, for one thing."

"Watch it, Colonel."

Sam smiled. "I'm qualified as a mission specialist. I fly _and _work."

"Of course." Jack thought about Sam fiddling with power cores, arming bombs and playing with any number of things he couldn't identify on board one ship or another. The only thing different here was the ship. "You must be happy as a pig in mud up there."

"I am. And liftoff is a big thrill. Nothing like feeling that kind of thrust." Sam smiled, looking out the window, the angled light from the afternoon sun breaking into golden flashes in her hair. Jack knew this one was coming because it hit deep in his belly before reaching his mind, the feel of that golden hair twisted between his fingers, smell and taste of her damp skin pushing into his senses as he pushed himself into her, his name echoing in his ears as it slid off her lips in a whisper.

He fixed his eyes on the road. "Did you _mean_ for me to drive off the road or was that a technical term?" _If I can joke about it, it means I'm not really crazy._ Jack released his grip on the steering wheel, grateful that he always wore sunglasses while driving, except at night.

"Technical. Definitely." Sam laughed, a little embarrassed. "I really never learned to talk like a pilot." She turned back from the window. "And I'll never do anything so important as fighting the go'auld, either."

"Don't be so sure about that," Jack pulled the truck off the highway onto a dirt road. He swore he could still smell her hair- or maybe he really was.

"Huh?"

"Some unimportant shuttle commander saved our lives the when SG-1 knocked off a go'auld mothership in earth orbit."

"Really?" Sam was unexpectedly pleased by the thought.

"Yeah. Really." Jack parked and opened his door. "Now don't get in the water and be quiet."

"What? Why am I here, then?"

_Hell if I know. _"Company." Jack smiled and shut the door. He put the tailgate down. "Why don't you go see what kind of bugs are out?"

"I'm not an entomologist."

"I don't need genius and species, Carter, just the bugs." Jack instructed her as he put the rod together. He stopped long enough to watch her pounce on a few unlucky insects and stuff them in an empty water bottle. She was as beautiful as ever, but a touch less serious, quicker to laugh and maybe even a little innocent. Jack could understand why that would be. A decade of fighting unimaginable enemies might take the joy out of life, just a little. He sighed. Or maybe it was just a decade of being with him.

She approached him, peering at the bottle. "I picked up the ones that could fly or hop into the water. There are more of these out there."

Jack appreciated how she intuitively picked up on what he wanted to know. God, she _was_ brilliant. He hoped she never learned to fly fish because she'd analyze into a science, when it really was an art- and then she'd catch more than he. He looked at the bug she indicated with the tip of her finger. "Sonofabitch."

"What?" Sam recoiled, sure she'd done something wrong.

"Oh, nothing. I need a yellow hopper, and I don't have one." He sighed. "There's absolutely _no_ substitute for a genuine lack of preparation." Grumbling under his breath, he tied on a different fly and they walked down to the river.

Sam sat on a boulder near the shore, quietly as promised, and watched Jack cast. His strength, gracefulness and concentration fascinated her as he laid down line after line in a perfect rhythm, and she would have been content to watch him all evening. She was beginning to believe his story, not just because of the logic of it all, but because of _him_. Jack had the self-confidence of someone who'd earned it and yet covered it up with self-deprecating humor; and it allowed him to possess authority like he breathed the air- just a part of him that warranted no second thoughts. Sam thought he'd be someone to fear if she didn't already know he had a heart. How she knew that was disturbingly unclear.

The clouds and glassy river alike turned from pink to purple as he reeled in the line, leader and fly and sat down beside her, gratefully taking the beer she offered. "Not biting today," he said, holding the cold bottle to his forehead.

"That's not really the point, though, is it?"

"Well, there's a fine line between fly fishing and looking like an idiot standing by a river."

Sam smiled. "I've been thinking about this whole timeline thing." She tossed a twig in the water and watched it drift away. "I want you to tell me about my life in your timeline."

"It's not your life."

"It was my life until six weeks ago."

"You think too much." Jack shook his head.

"Time line changes are not alternate realities. Your old world is gone, Jack." Sam said, mesmerized by the rippling water. "And when- if- we change it back- this world will be gone and yours will return. So I want to know where I'm going."

Jack wondered how she could so casually talk about erasing her memories. His shaking hands made it difficult to remove the fly from the leader. "No, Sam. I'm sorry. That's crazy."

"Look." Sam rolled her pants leg up over her knee. "Recognize that?"

Jack's head started to spin, and he was sure it wasn't from one beer. He traced the scar on her knee. "You wrecked your motorcycle when you were a kid."

"That's right." She put her feet in the water without guilt now that he was done fishing, and then promptly took them out. "Wow, that water _is_ cold." She set her feet on the rock to dry and wiggled her painted toenails as Jack watched, fascinated. Same color. "The Sam you knew and I are the same person because the timeline changed in the middle of my life."

He suddenly realized that Sam- or anyone else for that matter- wasn't wondering where Jack O'Neill had gone- there was no one there to wonder, and of all the crap he'd been through, this was new. He secured the reel and dismantled the rod, the familiar motions calming his mind. _The Sam you knew and I are the same person_. Jack gathered the pieces in his hand and studied her. Sam wasn't _there_, she was _here-_ right in front of him.

"Jack?"

"Yeah. I never really thought of it that way. I mean, you-"

"It's weird, I know. But it's true." Sam wondered how much she'd missed. It seemed like she'd missed quite a lot that Jack wasn't willing to tell her, and that was disturbing. But she knew not to push, because he still worried her- and that worried her, too.

"Well, there _are_ two of me. Why? I can't be dead and alive at the same time, like that cat in the box."

Sam smiled. "No, you can't. When the timeline changed you must have been in the wormhole, placing you out of space and time. Or you _would_ be dead now."

"Well, that's the luck of the Irish." Jack put the rod in its case and got up. "For once."

"I'd say so." Her feet finally dry, Sam put her socks and shoes back on. He held out his hand and she grabbed it and stood, meeting his eyes as she did. He didn't let go of her hand as they stood by the riverbank, close enough that Sam could feel his breath on her face. Or maybe it was just the last warm breeze of the day, but it stirred something inside her that she didn't think should exist, and she raised her other hand to touch his face. "I asked you not to call me until you could explain, Jack."

He still couldn't. Not well enough to make her understand, because he couldn't understand it himself. He didn't understand why he could be here with someone he didn't know but still loved and why those feelings should seem damned near adulterous when he was holding his wife's hand. Ultimately, he decided he couldn't explain, he could only tell, and let her come up with her own explanation. She was always so good at that.

"I _was_ married- to you." Jack finally said, completely unsure what her reaction would be to a statement that defied reason.

Sam wasn't surprised. "I'm not her."

"You just said you were."

"Physically, but I- don't remember." Sam was overwhelmed by emotions that seemed to materialize on their own, built on fragments of thoughts and words that had been swirling around inside her head ever since she'd seen Jack O'Neill standing there on the sidewalk. It suddenly struck her that they'd made love so many times he'd probably lost count, and she couldn't remember even once. But heaven help her, looking into his deep brown eyes, she wanted to remember- more than anything. "It's not fair."

"No it isn't. But it's more unfair for me." Jack ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face.

"Why?" His touch was breathtaking, both familiar and new.

Jack shook his head and pulled away from her and set the gear in the truck bed. No matter what, they couldn't win this time around. It was just a matter of how much they were going to lose, and when.

TBC….


	4. Total internal reflection

**Total internal reflection** occurs when a ray of light strikes a boundary at an angle larger than the **critical angle**, so effectively all of the light is reflected back to the source.

* * *

Darkness fell swiftly in Colorado Springs once the sun slipped behind the mountains, and it was night when Jack pulled up to Sam's house. She stepped out of the cab and then turned around. "Thanks, Jack. It's been an- interesting afternoon." 

"Yeah." _That would be one way to describe it._

Her hand tapped briefly on the top of the doorframe. "Do you want to stay for dinner?"

"I'd hate to impose."

"Well, it's not like I'm going to do a lot more than pick up the phone."

"I know. I just thought you'd had enough of me for one day."

"There are some things I'd like to ask you, Jack." She looked worried. "I'm afraid they're going to call me any day now, to work on the stargate."

"You've heard something?" Jack almost jumped out of the truck.

"No. I just know when they do, it'll be me they call." Sam opened the front door. "It's been long enough now that they might have worked something out with Egypt."

Jack held her arm with a look of concern, and turned her to face him. "I really do mean it when I say I'd hate to be you." He knew there'd be no getting out of it for her, even if he could walk away. "If it wasn't for me you wouldn't know what you were getting in to, Sam."

She shrugged. "I'd rather know, Jack. Don't worry about it." She got the impression that he was used to doing what had to be done, regardless of the personal cost. Sam watched him walk down the hall and turn right without asking her for directions. She could hear water running in the bathroom off the hall as she walked toward the kitchen, poured two glasses of water, and sat down in the living room.

. Jack came out in a few minutes and took his glass. "That feels better." He set the glass down and buttoned his sleeves down again, his face ruddy from washing.

"You lived here, didn't you?"

"We lived here." Jacked watched her face as the words settled into her head.

"Don't talk that way, Jack. Don't say "we."

"I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about what happened at the river. It's confusing enough to me- I have no idea how to help _you_."

"You could start by not walking into my house like it's yours."

"It is mine."

Sam couldn't break his gaze and couldn't understand the hold he had on her. She'd met him three fleeting days ago, had spent nearly every waking moment with him and it seemed as if she'd known him all her life. It was if he _belonged_in that chair, in her house, in her life. "Why do I feel as if I know you?"

"I told you before I've been in other realities, even other timelines. In every one, you were there."

"And we…?"

"Yeah."

"I don't believe in fate."

"Of course not, Sam. You're a scientist."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Sam," he sighed, "sometimes logic is just a systematic way of coming to the wrong conclusion." _Especially when it comes to love. You ought to know all about that._ He put his feet up on the coffee table. "Did it ever occur to you that _this _might be the best timeline even if it's not the original?"

"What, so you can have time to fish?"

"No, smartass. Because we aren't constantly looking over our shoulders, waiting for the next big galactic catastrophe."

"That's why you told them to leave the stargate alone."

Jack nodded. "I didn't know then what the problem was. I thought I was in another reality. I still think I did the right thing."

"Isn't the timeline a different issue, though?"

"You tell me."

"But Jack, what about…" Sam paused. Her thoughts were too strange to verbalize.

"What about you?" Jack said softly.

"Not just that. Everyone. Everyone you ever knew."

"I can't- I can't do anything else, Sam." The determination and resignation in his eyes communicated more to her than his stilted words.

"You always put yourself last, don't you?"

"It was the story of our lives, Sam. You did the same thing. You'll _do_ the same thing, and that's what I'm worried about."

"The gates aren't functional. I don't have to do anything right now."

Jack couldn't help but notice her use of the plural. "Are you going to tell them?"

Her eyes narrowed in thought. "Tell me, Jack. Did I ever disobey orders?"

"Not directly. But you sure as hell took liberties in interpreting them." He smiled. "And you helped _me_ disobey them on multiple occasions."

"So I did what you asked even when it was counter to the directives from higher up."

"Yes." Jack suddenly understood where she was going with this line of reasoning. "I don't know if I have the right to ask anything of you, Sam. I can't take the hit for you if something happens, not anymore. I just want to know where you stand."

"I know. I just want to know how much to trust you."

They thoughtfully regarded each other for a few moments. "I'm not going to say anything, Jack. But don't do anything to piss me off, okay?"

"Oh no," Jack smiled, shaking his head, "I would_ never _do that."

Sam wondered what he meant by that. She finished her water and set the glass on the same coffee table out of which she'd pulled a gun on him only a week earlier. "You never really answered me about the timeline, though. What does it have to do with the Stargate?"

Jack smiled weakly. "Oh God, don't ask me to explain. 'cause I really _don't_ get it, this time."

"Sorry." Sam said, unrepentantly.

"The stargate only let us move along our own timeline. We went back once, to 1969."

"I see. A traversable wormhole with one end accelerated near the speed of light. You used some kind of slingshot effect to accelerate yourselves back to the point of origin."

Jack put his head in his hands. She was the same Sam, all right. "Solar flares."

"Cool."

"Groovy, actually."

Sam tried to suppress a smile. "But did you ever alter a timeline?"

"Once, accidentally. I saw myself on a 3000 year-old videotape."

"So you must have restored the timeline."

"You always said we didn't, not perfectly." Jack smiled. "Because of the fish."

"What _is_ it with you and fish?"

Jack shrugged. "On the tape I said I had no fish in my pond. But I do. For some reason, that bugged the crap out of you."

"Well, yeah, it means we aren't actually us. But we haven't been us our whole lives so I guess it doesn't matter that much. To us." Sam mused, thinking aloud.

"Let's assume we're us, okay?"

"In theory." Sam said, still somewhat dazed.

"Come on, Sam, stay with me." Jack waved his hand in front of her face.

Sam blinked her way back to reality. "Yeah. Well, how did you go back 3000 years?"

Jack explained about the puddle jumpers. "You left that out of your interviews, too, Jack," Sam reprimanded him, more gently this time.

"For all I know, there still _is_a PJ buried out there. You know the Air Force, Sam. If it flies, they'll want to play with it. I couldn't risk it."

Sam nodded. "So you're saying the Ancients could travel through time." She paused. "What if they did this to help us? What if this isn't an act of aggression at all? How do we make the right choice?"

"I don't know." Jack drank the rest of his water and set the glass down. "I mean, we really are screwing with the fate of the whole galaxy. When we went through the gate, we helped free billions of other humans, but not now."

Sam sighed. "I know. I read your interrogations. But Jack, is that your problem? Is that our problem? I can tell you right now what the Pentagon thinks."

Jack thought of Teal'c and sighed. "I know, Sam."

"God, Jack. We don't have any idea what we're doing."

"No." Jack sat up and looked intently into her eyes. "We don't."

Then Jack's cell phone rang for the first time. It took him a few seconds to figure out how to answer it.

"O'Neill- yeah, sorry- Archer." Jack listened intently. "When?" He nodded and shut the phone.

"They want us at the airfield in an hour."

"_Us?_" Sam said.

"I'm sure they've been tailing one or both of us, Sam. It's what they do."

"What for?"

"They dug up some papers in Egypt, and they mention both of us by name."

------------------------------------------------------------

Jack had forgotten how slow conventional aircraft were, and he fiddled repeatedly with the seat controls and window, regretting that he'd had no time to bring a book with him.

"What's with you?" Sam asked, nervous and irritated.

"Obviously, I'm bored."

"I get that." Sam stilled his drumming fingers. "Why aren't you more worried?"

Jack smiled. "The USAF doesn't worry me, Sam. My worst nightmare is being tortured to death and resurrected over and over- yours is getting a bad write-up in your file."

"That's not true." Sam restrained a pout, barely. "I worry about being incinerated on re-entry."

"Done that, too." Jack smiled at her.

The pout escaped and Jack leaned over in his seat. "You know," he whispered, "you're cute when you're mad, Carter."

The familiarity of his manner made Sam uneasy, and she gently pushed him back. "Jack. You keep forgetting."

He touched her face with the back of his hand. "No, Sam. I keep remembering."

She took his hand down and inspected it.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left that on. It bothers you."

"I don't know. I don't know what it means." Sam shook her head.

"Don't worry about it, Sam. Just be yourself."

"What a cliché," she rolled her eyes. "_That's_ no help."

Jack smiled briefly, and then looked at her more thoughtfully. "What are you going to do if they ask you to work on fixing things back to how they were?"

"Well, I'll definitely need to know about the sex."

"_What?"_ Jack suddenly realized he'd forgotten to remove his jacket, and fumbled for the air flow nozzle.

"If we're married, I guess I'm entitled to know, don't you think?"

"You're having _way_ too much fun with this."

"I suddenly might find it impossible to fix the timeline. You never know."

"I never heard any complaints."

Sam assessed Jack carefully. For once, she had him off-guard, and she rather liked it. "All right then. Because I_ would_ complain."

Jack put his head back and reclined his seat. "The airman was instructed to come back here only on command," he smiled smugly, closing his eyes. " If you want a preview of coming attractions."

Sam suddenly felt the tables turn on her, and fast.

The plane touched down at Andrews at dawn. A car was waiting on the tarmac to take them to the Pentagon, where they were ushered into a meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

"Well," Jack said, eyeing the gathering, "I would have liked to dress for the occasion."

"Sit down, General O'Neill, Colonel Carter." AF Chief of Staff General Moseley directed. An aide slid copies of a document in front of O'Neill and Carter, and then the room went dark as the same document was flashed on a screen, and read aloud by the aide.

"To the President of the United States, or failing the existence of the Government of the United States, to the head of the governing authority most able to deal with a grave and imminent threat to the entire planet:

"In 1996, the Stargate found resting over these documents was made operational under the auspices of the United States Air Force Stargate Command. In using the stargate, the people of earth became known to the rest of the galaxy as both a formidable foe and ally. Primarily through the efforts of the flagship team SG-1, over the course of ten years the threats to earth were largely abolished and faster-than light travel became routine.

Jack and Sam stared at each other. "See. I told you. You were hot- I mean, in a military sense." Jack whispered. "Not that I don't mean…"

"Shush." Sam waved him into silence.

"Unfortunately, in 2021, a new threat arose which has systematically destroyed the inhabitants of every world in its path. We have no means to stop it. Even advanced alien technology has failed us as our Alpha and Beta sites have fallen. These losses have occurred in spite of the fact that SG-1 team member Major Samantha Carter previously encountered the entity aboard our first space vessel, the _Prometheus._ At that time, Major Carter was able to effectively negotiate with the entities or entity, but due to a head injury sustained during the incident, the ship's logs were incomplete. After the death of her husband, Home World Security Director General Jack O'Neill, Colonel Carter retired from the military. However, we fortunately have been able to contact Dr. Carter, and in conjunction with scientists from around the world, have formulated the following plan."

"Holy crap. Sounds like I got out of there just in time."

Sam put her hand over Jack's and fervently hoped they weren't about to assign her a mission that would kill him.

"The only way to defend humanity from these beings is to restore the earth to the time when the stargate program did not exist. To that end, using Ancient technology, we replaced the gate back in Egypt just before the gate was activated, so as to disrupt the timeline as little as possible. Those working on the project were transported back into the future to keep their knowledge secure."

Jack sighed. Katherine's life was some consolation.

"It is the hope of the United States Government and the undersigned heads of State from around the world that this gate remain buried and that human endeavors be directed at discovering a defense against these aliens, should our planet be re-discovered. As you have found, there are shipping containers filled with technology and documents from the Stargate program buried near the Stargate. We have also hidden a spaceship, the _Odyssey, _in Antarctica where O'Neill and Carter found the second Stargate."

Every eye in the room turned to Jack and he shrugged. Sam wondered just how much he'd gotten away with over the years. He certainly knew how to walk a very fine line.

"It has been said that those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. Ladies and Gentlemen, let us hope the same cannot be said of the future.

Cassandra Frasier, President of the United States of America."

Jack grinned. "You helped raise President Frasier. Guess they never figured out she was a _really_ illegal alien."

The lights came up.

"I don't know what to say, General. I have no memory of any of this, of course." Sam pointed out.

"General, if I may, I think I have some insight into what Carter was thinking when she came up with this plan."

_You would._ Sam shook her head and stared at him.

"Well, she absolutely insisted we never jack with the timeline, that the smallest thing could throw everything out of whack." He turned to Sam. "Am I right?"

"Yes."

"So it'd have to be something really bad for her to recommend that course of action. And she always said that whatever the thing was, it was bad, sir. 'Malevolent' is what she called it." Jack smiled at Sam. "I could never actually use a word like 'malevolent', so you know I'm not making this up."

The generals looked unconvinced.

"We've done it before, too. In a less dramatic way." Jack stated.

"What?" Sam stared at him. _More?._ Jack looked back at her. He'd withheld so much that by now he was feeling like a Tok'ra.

"Carter and I sent a note from the future, warning us about the Aschen, a race that we evidently were going to encounter. It had my blood and her fingerprints on it. The SGC took the note seriously and it did give us enough of a heads-up to avoid what would have been a fatal mistake for earth." He drank from his glass of water. Jack didn't enjoy this much talking. "If she did it once, she might do it again."

One of the other generals sat back in his chair and looked pointedly at Sam. "You're sure she- you-" the officer shifted in his chair uncomfortably, "Wouldn't deliberately recommend the wrong course of action?"

"With all due respect, sir, I would never do that. I don't know where this line of reasoning is coming from. Sir." Carter gripped the armrests of her chair to steady herself.

"Something happened with the stargate and your husband that put you off the military for good. You probably would have ended up a general, perhaps even taken Moseley's job out from under him," the man said kindly, trying to defuse the situation.

"He's _not _my husband." Carter pointed out. "But thank you for the compliments."

Jack looked at her sharply._ Being married to me isn't a compliment?_

"Right." The general sighed. "But do you think you'd be capable of doing this out of revenge?"

"And put us in a timeline in which it was very likely that he'd have died a whole lot sooner? That's not even logical, sir. With all due respect."

Jack rubbed his hands across his face. He'd put up with this kind of accusation being flipped back in their faces for far to many years, and to have it follow him into another timeline when he wasn't even _in_ the military was just too much. "Listen, I spent nearly the entire time I was at the SGC putting up with this kind of crap. Carter and I held the line like good little soldiers- she did everything by the book, and we didn't start seeing each other until we were clear of the regs." Jack calmly looked at the general. "So tell me this, sir, if she wouldn't even screw _me_ because of her sense of duty and honor, what makes you think she'd turn around and screw the entire world?"

Sam reached for the glass of water that sat in front of her as the room fell silent, and tried to decide whether to laugh out loud or toss the entire glassful on Jack.

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs regarded them both carefully. "We just wanted to get a handle on motivations. We weren't going to ask you to change the timeline back again, or get the gate working."

"I couldn't if I tried." Sam shook her head in disbelief.

He regarded her thoughtfully. "Colonel, I believe you _could_. From what General O'Neill has told us and what we've found in those containers, the technology out there is amazing. But acquiring more of it clearly isn't worth the risk. You've given us a head start on defending ourselves, and I think that's our best course of action."

"I didn't do anything, sir."

"You will, Carter." He smiled. "I've no doubt of that."

General Moseley turned to Jack. "General O'Neill, we'll need you to lead the expedition to Antarctica to retrieve the Odyssey, since you're the only person on the planet who is able to fly it. Colonel Carter will be your 2IC and learn how to fly the vessel from you." He slid mission files across the table to the pair.

"With all due respect, General, no." Jack said clearly. Jack had a way of making the room fall silent in a moment.

"No?" The General had not heard that word in quite some time, but he was not surprised to hear it coming from Jack O'Neill.

"First, I'm not in the military anymore. I'm dead, remember? Second, she's not going to be my 2IC even if your JAGs somehow come up with a way to drag me back in. Make up a different title. Co-Commander, co-pilot, whatever."

"General O'Neill…"

"No. I'm a civilian contractor. Take it or leave it. Sir." Jack sat back in his chair with his arms crossed. Sam stared at him, eyes wide.

General Moseley regarded Jack thoughtfully. "All right. When you finish the flight and the Odyssey is safely docked at Area 51, you will be_ offered_ a position debriefing the Pentagon regarding anything and everything you know about these alien races and their military capabilities." He paused. "Is that all right with you, _Mr._ O'Neill?"

"With all due respect, General, no."

"No?" Moseley felt a sense of déjà vu. He pitied the General Hammond of the other timeline.

"I'll need to stay in Area 51 going over the documents and- stuff."

"With Colonel Carter." Moseley correctly surmised.

"Yes."

General Moseley appraised Jack. "All right, O'Neill. After all, I think you've earned it. We'll send the analysts to you."

"Thank you, sir." Jack stood up and shook his hand. He turned to find Carter gone. Having lost her in one of the largest buildings in the world wasn't a deterrent to Jack. Within a few minutes, he found her sitting outside in the no-cover no-salute zone.

She glanced up at him, "How did you… Oh, never mind."

"This was the only place we could just talk when you would visit." Jack sat down beside her.

"Is that why you refused to be my CO?"

"Yeah."

"You're still hiding things from me, Jack."

"Yeah, and for the same reasons, too."

"What?"

"To protect you. You think it always helps to know stuff, but it doesn't." Jack waited, his hands in his jacket pocket, thoughts concealed behind his sunglasses.

Sam finally broke the lengthy silence, a slight smile in her voice. "Well, I guess we've got a spaceship to fly."

"That's my girl." Jack stood up, smiling, and offered a hand. Sam just rolled her eyes and accepted.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Jack was uncharacteristically quiet as they flew back to The Springs, the late morning sun still slanting in through the windows. The sure realization that he would never go back to his time was starting to sink in and the thought of the millions of lives that would remain enslaved weighed heavily on Jack's mind. Especially the thought of Teal'c.

"Jack, there's no choice." Sam read his thoughts. "I'm sure your friends will find a way."

"It probably doesn't matter with this new race of bastards moving in."

"Don't you think earth would share their plan with our allies?"

Jack had to think about that for a moment. Time travel was too confusing, and even though his body had done it his mind hadn't quite caught up. "No, Sam. All the humans came from earth through the gates. If _they_ go back to before there were gates on, say, Chulak, there wouldn't be any people there, either."

"Oh. I didn't know that." Sam nodded.

Jack stared at her. He'd just taught her something that didn't involve weaponry or escaping from a cell. _It involved_ _time travel,__ for crying out loud!_

"What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing." His smile faded as he reached into his pocket. "After you ran off, they gave me this for you." Jack handed her a letter. It was addressed to her in her own handwriting. "It's not like you to do this."

"No, it isn't. I guess I figured the flap of a butterfly's wing didn't matter if I was about to unleash a tornado."

Jack got up to leave. "I'll leave you two alone for awhile, okay?"

Sam opened the letter with trembling hands. It was reminiscent of the kind of letters she'd send to herself from space camp or Girl's State, only it was from the future and not the past.

_"Dear Sam…"_


	5. Leaps of Faith

L**eap of faith**: The act of believing in something without, or in spite of, available empirical

evidence.

* * *

_Dear Sam:_

_If you're reading this I'm sure we've thoroughly freaked each other out. Rest assured I haven't lost my mind (our mind?). This is for the best, and don't worry about what you might have missed. I paid a high price for the excitement._

_You'll be able to figure out everything inside the containers, with a little help from an old friend. You should immediately try to find Daniel Jackson, he'll pick up on the languages and history so fast it'll make your head spin, and what a great guy! Sadly, you won't have the knowledge of the Goa'uld that Teal'c possessed, or his solid friendship._

_Start with section A3.215c of the Asgard core- things will go much more easily after that._

_But this letter isn't just about saving the world, Sam. I'm sure you'll do that just fine, and that's what concerns me. I'm guessing you're an astronaut. I'm hoping this letter will reach you before you've wasted too much of your life not knowing what matters. In this timeline, Dad told me that I deserved to love someone, and be loved in return. He also said not to let the rules stand in my way- can you believe that? Dad?_

Sam chuckled. No, that was something she really couldn't picture.

_I'm guessing you never met Jack O'Neill- he's probably dead or possibly still married to Sara if he came to his senses. We wasted a lot of time, and Jack and I only had a few years together. Don't make me the same mistake twice. If you don't have a Jack O'Neill, find one. Don't wait too long, Sam. The work can wait._

_Samantha Carter_

Attached to the back of the letter was a photograph. "Oh my God." Sam stared at the picture. It _was_ her, with Jack, and they both looked as if it were taken yesterday although the photo itself was slightly yellowed with time. She hurriedly folded up the letter with the photo tucked inside.

She got up and went back to find him.

"Learn anything?" he asked as she sat beside him.

"Yes." Sam said, her voice shaky. "I did. You don't happen to have any pictures of me, do you?"

Jack hesitated, then keeping his eyes on her the entire time, found his wallet and gave it to her.

He had a surprising number of photographs, Sam thought, for a battle-hardened general. One of Charlie, she guessed. One of what she presumed was SG-1, because they both were in the picture, along with a younger man who, despite the glasses and unruly hair, was handsome with an intelligent glint in his eyes and standing beside a tall, serious man she presumed was Teal'c.

Then there were the pictures of her. She laid the first one in her lap. She looked so young in this one, standing laughing in her BDUs, but the picture itself was old. She turned it over. Not even digital. Sam glanced suspiciously at Jack.

"Well, what's anyone going to do about it _now_?" he smiled guiltily. Sam thought back to what he'd said so coarsely back at the meeting and wondered how hard that must have been. For both of them, she was sure.

Jack thought his life really couldn't get any weirder than this. Until it did, when she pulled out a photo of him in mess dress and her in a wedding gown. He watched her as she studied it, then pulled an identical- but older- photograph out of the envelope he'd given her.

"I- she loved you, Jack. Very much." Sam laid the photo down as if it were a playing card, wondering what kind of hand they'd been dealt. "I couldn't possibly replace her."

"I didn't expect you to."

"What did you expect?" She looked up at him, her eyes glistening.

He cradled her cheek in his hand. "I expected to find some help, maybe a friend. I didn't expect to fall for you all over again." Jack leaned over and kissed her, his mouth conforming to hers in an instant. He couldn't say just when it was that he decided _she_ was _her_. It might have been what she said by the river, or the scar on her knee. Or the way she kept her wits about her in the meeting that day. But one thing he was absolutely sure about was that the woman he was kissing was Samantha Carter. _His_ Samantha Carter. It was almost as if she'd simply been away for a while- like on an extended tour at Atlantis, and they'd both missed a few things. But she was back, and they could catch up, even if it took the rest of their lives.

And on top all of that thinking- she felt like his Sam Carter. Looked, laughed, walked and talked like her. Tasted like her.

"No, Jack, I can't." Sam broke the kiss and hurriedly gathered up his pictures. "I can't be a stand in."

"For yourself?" He pointed out the logical inconsistency, and for once Sam had nothing but emotion to stand on, and it was unfamiliar territory.

"I feel as if someone downloaded a program named "Jack O'Neill" straight into my head. I don't know where all this comes from."

"You don't believe in fate, and I guess you don't believe in love at first sight, either." Jack took back his wallet.

"No. Do you?"

He reclined his seat back and flipped the armrest. "Yeah. I do. It just took a really long time for me to admit it." Jack took her hand and closed his eyes. "Don't wait too long, Sam."

_Don't wait too long, Sam. _She clutched the letter and laid her head on his shoulder. Someone, somewhere, was trying to tell her something. If only she'd listen.

--

Sam shoved the last of her things in the duffle bag just as the doorbell rang. Wearily, she checked the date and time, wondering if the car was early or she was late. So much had happened in the last thirty-six hours that she had lost track of just about everything. She grabbed her bag and opened the door.

"Going somewhere?" He eyed the bag.

"Jack."

"We're not leaving until tomorrow," he pointed out, smiling.

"Oh." Sam looked at it as if she'd never seen it before. She set it back in the foyer. "Come on in. I'm just a little disoriented, I guess."

"A shuttle pilot?" Jack raised his eyebrows. "Disoriented? You fly upside down and see sixteen days in 24 hours."

Sam gave him a disgruntled looked and stepped back so he could enter. "I wasn't expecting any visitors."

If he heard the irritation in her voice, he didn't show it. "I just wanted to see my house one last time before you sell it." Jack walked past her and tossed his coat on the chair. "And by the way, I want half."

Sam looked at him in utter shock. "No. I need a new house."

"So do I." Jack flopped down onto the couch and put his feet on the coffee table, a small smile playing at the edge of his mouth. "We always hung on to this house as sort of a base of operations."

Sam stared at him. "I'm never going to get used to this."

"Reality's just an illusion. Although a really persistent one." Jack put his arm around her shoulder as she sat down beside him. "You were always the one to think outside the box, Sam."

"Jack, I'm really tired. I don't want to talk anymore about whatever I used to do, whoever I used to be. I'm not that way, now. Don't you get it? Doesn't anyone? They think I can fly the _Odyssey_ and decipher literally tons of information just because my _name_ was on those papers."

Jack had always considered himself to be a patient man, a quality he found essential to surviving his stint in Special Forces. But there were times when something inside him would snap, and this was one of them. "Dammit, Sam! It's not what you know; it's what you can _learn_. If not you- who? Know anyone else who can fly a shuttle, take it apart and put it back together- with no parts left over?"

Sam reluctantly shook her head.

"People want you for who you are, not who you were."

"Including you?"

"Yeah."

"You can tell?" She asked, doubtfully.

"I knew you in two different realities years ago. I knew it wasn't you- but you're you this time."

"I can't believe I understood that." Sam sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "Maybe I am getting used to it."

"Told ya." He looked down at her. "Besides, I'm_ glad_ you can't remember all that stuff we went through." Jack combed her hair back with his hand, letting the strands drop slowly through his fingers.

"Really?" She closed her eyes under the rhythmic spell of his touch and told herself it was just because she was tired.

"Yeah." He spoke more calmly now, his voice quieter. "You 'd wake up at least twice a week screaming. All the weird stuff, people dying- even what we had between us was screwed up for years." He kept stroking her hair, fascinated by the soft texture. Sam didn't torture her hair like so many women did. "We all had our minds messed with, but yours especially."

"I guess it wasn't all just fun and games."

"Mostly it was one disaster after another." Jack gently kissed her forehead. "I'm glad you missed that." His lips never broke contact with her skin as he moved to press another kiss to her temple as if he'd comforted her this way dozens of times.

"That can't be right, Jack. These dreams- or flashbacks- how can I help you? Who are you going to talk to about them?"

"I've never been big on talking." He held her face steady with his hands, finally kissing her deeply, her mouth conforming to his. His soft touch took her by surprise- even his hair was smoother than she would have believed, but she could feel the strength tensing in his body, remembered how he looked by the river, and waited, aching to find out what was under that gentle veneer.

She didn't have to wait long before Jack led her back to the bedroom that was exactly where he knew it would be. He was sure of himself in a way that should have been intimidating and Sam reacted not with fear but anticipation. Every touch, every kiss, every time she felt the barely restrained pressure of his teeth was perfectly orchestrated to drive her insane. Just as she knew he would- but she just wasn't sure if she could return the favor. "I'm not sure if I know… "

Jack raised himself on an elbow and put a finger to her lips. "No. I get to re-live our first time. I couldn't ask for more." His eyes were intense, probing as he traced her lips. "This time I'll do a better job." Jack's mouth came down on hers, replacing his fingers with his tongue as his hands resumed their play across her body, finding her open and hot. He shifted onto her, then into her without a hint of hesitation or uncertainty, giving her exactly what she needed until the waves slammed over and over, lifting them both.

"I think you did do a better job." Sam whispered, catching her breath as she kissed the damp skin over the notch at the base of his throat.

"Better than _whom_?" Jack demanded. _Damn, she's got some nerve._

"The first time."

"Oh. That- thanks." Jack smiled sheepishly and kissed her forehead, then turned to grab the bedcovers that had mysteriously ended up on the floor.

"Do you have nightmares, too?" Sam asked, nestling sleepily into his side.

"They're getting better."

"Why is that?" Sam looked up at him, puzzled.

He touched her face. "I always had the same one."

Sam studied him for a long while, and the she nodded thoughtfully and put her head back down. Within a few minutes, her even breathing confirmed she was asleep. "Don't go through a stargate," he whispered, kissing the top of her head, "and they'll never come back again."

--

Jack woke to the irritating cheerfulness of the chickadees outside in the trees, and an empty bed. The sun hadn't even crested the horizon when he pulled on his jeans and wandered through the house until he found her, looking out the kitchen window, waiting patiently for the sun to rise.

"Hey." He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck, but her body didn't shift back into him and she remained quiet for a few moments.

"I don't think I can handle this."

Jack knew she didn't mean the work.

"If you had to choose, who would you pick?"

"There's no right answer to that question." For Sam or for him, he knew.

"I'll never know what's behind anything you do or say, Jack." Sam set her coffee down on the counter. "I'll never know your reasons."

Jack spun her around, a little harder than he intended, but he didn't apologize. "Does anybody? Our reasons are just a little more screwed up than other people's, that's all. Nobody knows the _reason_ for any of this." He looked intently into her eyes, grey in the dim morning light and kissed her with conviction, leaving no room for doubt or for her to slip out from between him and the counter, because they both knew she'd run.

"Tell me what it said." Jack held her shoulders and whispered into her hair, still tangled from where he'd twisted it the night before. "The letter."

"I said to call Daniel." Sam said, her eyes closed.

"You put our wedding picture in to remind yourself to call Daniel." Jack let the incongruity of the statement make its own case. "Tell me," he demanded, his thumb tracing the sun's first rays along the curve of her neck.

"I told myself to find somebody like you," Sam put her hand on his chest, "ten years after you had died."

"You did?" He switched his focus to her eyes and Sam saw love so profound she steeled herself, ready for her heart to snap. She watched him, and waited, feeling his heart beat beneath her hand, thinking of all he'd lost- and her heart didn't break. It beat in time to his.

"It's really a love letter. To you." Sam reached into her pocket, and then held out the letter, worn from folding and re-folding but not from time. He hesitated to take it. "Read it, Jack."

There was enough light now that he had no trouble making out the familiar writing, and the memories poured over him but he knew he didn't have to try to forget. Not anymore. Jack folded up the letter, full of gratitude and love for the woman who'd written it and given it to him. He slipped it back into its envelope and lifted his eyes to catch hers. "Do you think you could love me like that again some day?"

Then Sam realized her heart really wasn't past the point of breaking, and she held him close until the phone rang letting them know the driver was on his way.

--

Their pilot set them down at the coordinates mentioned in the terabytes of documents Sam had been analyzing ever since they left Washington. He shut down the rotors and they waited for the others to arrive.

"So, what's out here on this godforsaken piece of ice, ma'am?"

"John, it's alright to dispense with the ma'am."

"Okay, Colonel." He smiled at her, eyes shaded by classic aviators.

Jack was damned if he'd let Sheppard flirt with Sam in this timeline or any other. "You bring the radar, kid?"

"Yup."

"Good. Go get it out."

"Yes, sir." John opened the door with a rush of frigid air.

"Don't call me, 'sir'. I'm not military anymore."

"I can't help it. I'm a Southerner, sir. I was taught to address my elders that way." John smiled and shut the door.

Jack wanted to kick his ass, but then he realized neither he nor Carter could fly a helicopter.

"Why don't you like him?" It would be hard not to notice the tension since Jack first laid eyes on him.

"He's a womanizer, Sam."

"You know him." She didn't have to say from where.

"Yeah."

"Well, Jack, I survived a decade at NASA, I'm not worried about a helicopter pilot."

_She doesn't like secrets. _"He was your 2IC at Atlantis."

"You're kidding me." Sam blew out a breath slowly and regarded John as he covered the ground penetration radar with a tarp. It really was a small universe.

It was as beautiful a day as it could be in Antarctica, though they were cutting it close in terms of the winter season. The sky was piercingly blue against the white expanse of ice, and for once, the wind was minimal. Sam walked alongside the radar unit as it was dragged across the ice, peering at the readout. "I don't get it. There's no change."

"Change?" Jack asked, as if he expected to understand the answer.

"Yeah, I just keep getting a steady reflection about five meters down, I need to see a change in the pattern, like the edge of something. The edge of the ship."

"It's a big ship."

"I know, I read the specs."

"No, I mean it's_ big._" Jack held his arms as far apart as they'd go.

"Maybe we should go the other way."

"Keep going. You'll see." He gave her a little nudge, and with some irritation, Sam kept trudging along the ice.

Jack couldn't read her expression since her face was completely covered, but she walked another dozen meters and suddenly stopped. "Wait!" The snowmobile driver halted, and then followed her hand motions to back up.

"Wow. This is the edge." She looked back at the group of helicopters in the distance.

Jack smiled, reading her mind. "Yeah, Carter. You're going to fly this."

--

"Oh my God, Jack." Sam whispered, standing on the bridge.

"That good?" he said, sounding hurt.

She shook her head and blushed a little, hoping none of the airmen heard that. "You're awful."

"Yeah. You like it." He gave her a sly grin and sat down in the commander's chair, promptly powering up the vehicle.

A collective gasp echoed through the bridge as the lights flicked on and the engines began to hum.

"Probably I can just bust through this ice, don'tcha think?" Jack asked her.

She felt a little uneasy. "I only read about it, Jack."

He ignored her uncertainty. "Well?" She'd have an answer. He knew it.

Sam looked at him. "No, let's try something else." She turned to the weapons officer's station as she radioed to the surface. "Clear the area to a radius of three miles." The radio crackled back. "That's what I said." She sat down and shrugged. "I figured we do one mile for the shuttle, tack on another couple for unknown technology and size."

In a few minutes she had an affirmative reply. She glanced at Jack, "Here goes nothing," and turned on the shields.

"Damn, she was right." Sheppard said, peering through his binoculars at the explosion of ice three miles away. The water vapor and ice particles cleared, and the small group watched the _Odyssey_ lift slowly out of its icy grave. "Holy shit. To hell with 'copters," John whispered to himself, feeling his life plan changing gears.

"Engage the sublight engines," Jack directed, and Sam complied. "Cool. I always wanted to say that."

"_What?"_ She looked at him, eyes wide.

"They asked me if I could fly it, not if I _did_."

"I would really like to hurt you right now. Jack." She sat down and stared at him.

"Hey, Carter," he smirked, "I told you someone always beat me to it. But not today."

"Oh for crying out loud!"

Jack just grinned and Sam set the coordinates for Nevada, and then walked down the hallway to the Asgard core and section A3.215c. He found her there, sitting on the floor against the wall, her head on her knees, when they touched down in Area 51.

--

"Sam!" he dropped to his knees and took her by the shoulders. "What's going on?"

"This," she whispered quietly, and lifted up a small, translucent oval stone that Jack immediately recognized. She stood slowly with his help, and placed it on a podium. In front of them appeared an image of Sam Carter, ca. 2021.

"Hello Sam. I'm sure you're not surprised to see a recording of me- you." Her fifty-something self smiled back. "But you will be surprised by what I have to tell you. Please don't allow anyone else to view this recording. We need to talk."

Sam turned to Jack, then back to the screen. "I downloaded my own consciousness into this Asgard core. The Asgard did it all the time, in fact they did it to Jack, once."

He nodded, fascinated by the sight on the screen. "That's true."

"And his brains weren't scrambled. Much." The recorded Sam laughed.

Sam watched Jack's face and saw his smile, and made her decision. She moved the stone slightly and jumped up onto what Jack had thought was just a table behind the podium.

"Sam?" Jack looked at her, then the stone. "Aw, crap. Don't do this!" The clear cover slipped up over Sam's face before he could slide his hands underneath the edge. "Sam, stop it!" He pounded on the cover, which didn't even vibrate, much less break. "Dammit, get out of there, now!"

There was a brief flash, then the cover slid noiselessly back under the table. Jack stood back and watched her eyes flutter open. "Oh, my head."

He was both horrified and thrilled when she turned her head and focused on him.

"Jack O'Neill?" A confused smile spread across Sam's face.

Jack didn't move, didn't speak, caught between wanting to shake her and hold her to him. "What have you done, Sam?" His voice was steady and low, not ready to believe what- who- he was seeing.

"I never thought I'd see you- Colonel O'Neill." Sam's face changed from relief to worry. "I'm sorry, you weren't supposed to be here." She wanted to believe he was her Jack O'Neill, but she knew better. She just hadn't been prepared for this possibility- without the stargate he should have been dead or retired. He wasn't even supposed to know her name.

"This ship is from the old timeline. And so are you." Jack's voice was void of emotion. _The old timeline- my timeline._

"It was our choice." She slowly sat up. "My choice."

"You and your saving the world, Sam. Aren't you sick of it?" Jack ran his hand through his hair, trying to grasp what had happened. He was just so tired, tired of thinking, tired of believing and so very tired of having his heart broken and then patched up, over and over and over again.

Sam looked at him, completely confused. "We knew I could recover the data and technology years faster this way." She gingerly felt her head, fatigue etched in her face.

"You thought you'd be with some other guy." Jack's head was spinning. "In this timeline."

"No guy, most likely." Sam looked at him, puzzled. "Why are you here? You don't know anything about the Stargate program."

Jack took a deep breath. "Actually, I do. And I'm not some other guy." He didn't move from where he first stood, away from the table, his hands jammed in his pockets.

"_What_?" Sam was suddenly still, gripping the table, uncomprehending.

"General Jack O'Neill, Home World Security." Then, just to drive home the point, "Sam, we're together again."

She had never harbored this hope, this twist of time and space. The most she'd ever believed possible was that he was somehow alive. She'd never even allowed herself to think he'd be unattached. Not Jack O'Neill. But to find her own _General_ Jack O'Neill alive and well was beyond the bounds of even her imagination.

"When you did your little trick with the timeline, I was in a wormhole."

"You never died?" Her voice was barely audible, amplified by the echoes from the trinium hull.

"I was going to, but you changed that."

"You found me here." It was all becoming clear to Sam, now. "How long ago?" she managed to whisper.

"A month." Jack said. "And you know how I've always loved you." It was almost an accusation, and a warning.

"I- she didn't tell me. She could have, but she didn't." Sam shivered. Jack slowly approached her and slipped off his coat.

"Yeah. She knows you too well." His tone softened a bit as he pulled the jacket around her thin, tired frame like he'd done so many times before and wondered how many versions of Sam he could love. Here, there, then, now, old, new. And yet all the same person, the very same one just with updates to the software. He was through with thinking because it was clear that logic and reason couldn't help him now.

"All she asked was about our life together and how you died." Sam slumped forward, her head against his shoulder. She felt Jack stiffen, but didn't care. "You were killed in a wormhole in 2008. You disappeared. Those memories are burned into my mind like it was yesterday."

Jack closed his eyes and sighed. "I never died. I just came here," and he stroked her hair and held her close, feeling her body shake with cold and tears. "Sam," he choked, "We are _so_ fucked up."

"Can you take me home, Jack? Just take me home."


	6. Regeneration

In biology, an organism is said to **regenerate** a lost part, if a substitute for the loss grows from the rest of the organism, and the substitute is a copy or almost a copy of the old lost part.

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I hope you enjoyed the story! If you want astronaut Sam back, please read the alternate ending, Chapters 7-9.

* * *

Jack sat on the edge of the couch in his nondescript base housing unit and watched Sam swallow a couple of pills he had left over from his last knee surgery. He smoothed her hair back from her face. "You'll feel better fast, if they don't just knock you out cold." 

"Did I make the wrong choice?" Sam laid her head heavily on Jack's shoulder.

"Sam, you were just doing the right thing. Saving the world over your own dead body. As usual." Jack sighed. "You knew you wouldn't say no."

"I was an astronaut, Jack, wasn't I?"

Jack could hardly think. He knew she was the same person- not two alternative versions. The. Same. Sam. It was as if her personality had split right around the time she turned thirty years old, when the SGC came to be. "Commander of the shuttle Atlantis."

"How ironic," she smiled, letting Jack lay her down and swing her legs around to rest on the couch. "But not used to saving the world, Jack. I guess we'll never really know why I did it- why I agreed to lose all those years of memories." She caressed his face with her hand. "I'm so glad I did. I missed you. I don't even know where to start."

"Me neither." Jack pressed her hand to his face.

Sam looked at his hand. "You never took off that ring," she touched the gold, warm from his hand, "but you fell in love with the astronaut." Sam gazed sadly at Jack as her eyes fluttered closed under the influence of the drugs.

"You." Jack replied softly. "She was always you." Sam smiled and faded off to sleep, his hand clutched to her chest, one gold band on the other.

She woke to the smell of coffee and perfectly smooth sheets on half of the bed. _It's going to take a while. Just be damn glad he's even alive. _Sam left her head on the pillow, a single tear soaking the crisp white fabric. She lifted a few strands of bright yellow hair, and then inspected the smooth, clear skin on her hands. This might be one day she'd actually look forward to seeing herself first thing in the morning.

Jack appeared in the doorway with a mug of coffee. "Sleep okay?"

"Like a rock." She finally sat up, noticing she'd magically been stripped of everything but her panties and a T-shirt. Self-consciously, she reached for the robe Jack had set out just as he handed her the coffee, their arms colliding and spilling hot liquid on her knee.

"Ow, Jack!"

"Sorry," Jack grabbed the sheet to wipe off the coffee. "Okay?"

"I'm fine." Sam smiled weakly and pulled on the short robe, but not before she noticed Jack's eyes sweep across her figure. She looked down self-consciously and tied the belt.

"Nothing I haven't seen before, Sam." Jack gently teased.

"Maybe yesterday for you, but a decade for me." She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. _ Jealous of yourself, huh?_

Jack leaned wearily on the doorjamb. "I can't regret anything, Sam. I would have gone insane." He rubbed his temples with one hand. "I was going insane. You- _you_ helped me."

Sam stood motionless with her hands in the pockets of the robe. "I'm sorry, Jack. I shouldn't care- I don't care. I'm just so glad to have you back." She choked back the tears. "I'll adjust. Whatever you want."

Jack stepped up to her, setting the coffee on the nightstand and sweeping his arms around her in one quick movement. "Sam," he stroked her hair slowly, comfortingly. "I'm such an ass. After everything you've been through."

"We'll fix it, Jack. We always do."

"You always do." Jack looked at her tear-streaked face and swore he'd never be the cause of it again. He brushed his lips across hers, tentatively. She felt the same, always the same. The essence of Samantha Carter had never changed and never would; he knew that now. Jack pressed harder, one hand going to her face, the other around her waist, pulling her in, just as the doorbell rang. Several times. "God _damn_ it." Jack let go of her. "Don't move."

Sam stood completely still, his kiss still lingering, the first one in over ten years. She touched her to fingers to her lips, oddly grateful that the doorbell had rung, because she needed to take Jack in small doses. She'd forgotten how overwhelming his presence could be.

"Carter!" Jack called back down the hall, "Delivery for you."

She walked out into the living room, curiosity overtaking modesty. "Yes?"

An airman stood in the doorway, several large boxes on the walk behind him. "Where do you want your things, ma'am?" He shifted uneasily. "I have two addresses for you."

"What?"

"Uh, one for Colonel Carter and one for Dr. Carter. I tried the other address but no one was there. Sorry ma'am."

"Which address is this?" Sam looked at Jack but spoke to the airman.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand, ma'am."

"Is it Dr. Carter's or Colonel Carter's address. Here?" Sam clarified.

He peered at his delivery orders. "It's Dr. Carter's."

"I gave him the directions, Sam. They're from the_ Odyssey._" Jack stared at her, his hands in his jeans pockets. "Do you think they belong somewhere else?" _Do you belong somewhere else?_

"No." Sam bit her lip and looked at Jack. "I guess they belong here."

His anxiety behind him, the young man suddenly noticed the long-legged blonde in front of him. "Would you want me to bring up your things from the other unit? It would be no trouble at all."

Jack grabbed him by the arm and turned him around, walking him back to the boxes. "Box up that unit and keep it in storage for her, okay?" he said sternly and quietly. "You can bring in the rest."

Jack walked back into the house, forcing a smile. "You know, Carter, we do have toothpaste back in here in the good old days. And TVs, kitchenware, socks…"

Sam smiled. It was good to hear his lousy humor again. "The computers stink. Mine are better."

Jack put his arms around her, "A girl's gotta have what a girl's gotta have."

"Woman." Sam corrected him.

"Yeah, and I think our airman here has noticed that." Jack whispered. "So why don't you get dressed and I'll get breakfast."

"I'm going to Las Vegas today," Sam blurted out.

"Why? Sam, you just _got_ here," Jack uttered in sheer frustration. "And not only that- the Stanley Cup finals are this morning. How _could_ you?"

Sam eyed the boxes nervously. "Parts- I need parts."

"Not enough of 'em in there?" Jack nodded toward the growing pile. He really was hurt.

"No." Sam smiled thinly. "Jack, I'm sorry, I really am. I'm flying myself and I'll be back by this afternoon, I promise."

Jack released her. Las Vegas was known for a lot of things, but "parts" wasn't one of them. He sighed, realizing the last thing she needed were more questions. Those would be coming full force at her soon enough.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam left the little two-seater in the hangar, smiling radiantly as she walked toward the tiny terminal, a packet in her hand. Jack watched her approach and thought the parts she got must have been damned tiny- if there _were_ any parts. He swung open the door for her and she tossed her arms around his neck. "I got it."

"What?" Jack hadn't seen her this happy in a long time, not even before he fell down the rabbit hole.

Sam slid out the papers. "It's a deed, Jack." She watched, beaming, rocking back and forth on her heels, as he read the terms.

"The cabin." Jack looked down at her, stunned. "How?"

"Well, when you promise to give up your life for your planet _in advance_ you get to make certain demands. Mine was my savings in old hundred dollar bills." Sam laughed. "Nobody looks twice at a suitcase of hundred dollar bills in Vegas. At least not if they know what's good for them."

"The boxes?" Jack smiled. "No wonder they were so goddamned heavy."

"Sara sold it when you died, and it changed hands a couple of times. I made an offer they couldn't refuse." Sam was literally clapping her hands together in delight.

"My wife the money launderer." Jack hugged her. "Thank you." He turned his face into her hair, partly to hide his tears. "Go get your stuff."

"We can't, Jack, there's so much to do…"

"Screw it. Get your stuff and I'll get that little plane turned over. The world can wait." He folded up the deed and put it in his inside jacket pocket. "Go."

Sam didn't waste any time. In less than two hours they were over the Great Salt Lake.

Jack had been smiling so much his face hurt. He played with Sam's hair and tried to think back to that last time he felt this good, which might have been never. No impending universal disasters, no fighting with the IOA, no worrying about Sam. All those things might still come to pass, but they weren't here yet.

"You're going to get me off course." Sam glanced over at him as he caressed the back of her neck.

"You did that to me ten years ago."

Sam smiled. He had no idea how much she loved him- she couldn't really understand it herself and being away from him for a decade had only made it more intense. "They'll scramble f-16s if I veer off this flight plan by a hundred yards, you know."

"Yeah, you're almost as valuable as the President, and they don't even know you're _Dr_. Carter, yet. Otherwise we _would_ be going in Air Force One." Jack smiled at her. He glanced appreciatively around the cockpit. "Can I fly it back?"

Sam regarded him skeptically. "It's new. I don't know if can trust you after the motorcycle thing."

"You're never going to forgive me for that, are you?"

"No." Sam admitted. "But the plane makes me feel better."

"We weren't exactly poverty-stricken, but how did you swing a new plane and a house all in one day?" Jack didn't get calculus, but he could add.

"Well, inflation does really nice things if it runs in reverse, Jack." Sam grinned. "And then there was the Stanley Cup…"

"You didn't!" Jack was unbelievably jealous. 'You knew?"

Sam smiled. "They don't take bets in Groom Lake. That's why I had to go to Las Vegas."

"Where nobody looks twice when one _bets_ a suitcase full of hundred dollar bills." He paused. "So, about the World Series…"

"No. This timeline is _nearly_ identical. You know Lorne could have gone pro. I just couldn't see McKay doing it, though."

Jack laughed. "You got me there. But I'm going to watch your record, Carter." Holy crap, but she was smart, and he loved her for it. And she looked so damned hot behind the controls of that plane.

It was midnight when they opened the door to the cabin and Jack flipped on the lights. While a few small items had changed, nearly everything was exactly as they remembered. "I wonder if there's fishing gear here someplace."

"I bought it turn-key. Everything that's here, stays." Sam hesitated, and then turned to Jack. "We're not home, Jack, but we can start over."

"It has to be this way, Sam, doesn't it?" Jack took her in his arms. "We can't change it back again."

"No, we really can't. Earth would be wiped out by 2022."

"Then I guess we _are _home." He kissed the side of her face, then turned her head to meet his lips, finishing the kiss they'd started earlier that day in Nevada. Jack held her head steady, his mouth against hers, open, hot and demanding.

Sam turned her head, burying her face in his shoulder, "Jack, it's too much- you're too much, too soon."

Jack didn't stop, gently biting the curve of her neck, while his hands deftly unfastened her jacket and slipped it off of her shoulders. "You said 'Whatever I want'," he reminded her, as his hands slipped down, following her curves from her breasts to her thighs. "I want you."

"Is it really me you want? There's not a mark on me, Jack."

"Except on your knee." Jack held her back and looked steadily into her eyes, and Sam literally trembled. She'd forgotten that look, the nearly predatory intensity that would make her heart pound and her body ache. Like they were right now.

"I remember everything, Sam. I'll never forget any of it, even if I want to. There was a scar from shrapnel here," Jack kissed her carefully, over her left eyebrow. He could smell her shampoo, the same kind she'd always used but this time it seemed strangely exotic and it drew him in. He let his lips drift slowly down her neck and felt Sam draw in a quick breath under the gentle pressure over the soft skin of her throat as her hands threaded through his hair. Jack's fingers touched her collarbone and he unbuttoned her blouse enough to let him trace a path almost to her right shoulder. "And a laser blast here." He kissed that spot too, right above her breast, her heart pounding beneath his lips.

"Is this a guided tour?" Sam said through uneven breaths.

"Shh. I'm not done," Jack whispered, "I've got you memorized," as he finished with her blouse. "You were shot here and nearly died." He drew his fingers across her side, caressing her back and hips with warm, strong hands that very nearly encircled her entire waist. "But I can't show you the last one with those jeans on."

"I see." Sam shivered as his mouth moved several inches down from her shoulder wound.

"Fortunately, I also know where the bedroom is."

Jeans off, Jack laid her back on the bed and ran his hand up her leg to her thigh, tracing a line across it. "I was sure we'd find you dead that day." Jack looked at her, his eyes dark. For an instant, he saw her hair matted and dirty, blood on her deathly pale face as she handed him the weapon's computer chip just as the shadow of the monster fell across them both.

Sam touched his face. "It's over, Jack No more fighting." Her words jerked him away from the nightmare, and he focused on her eyes. Sam saw his fear for her dissolve at that moment, replaced by passion and something bordering on desperation as he bent over her, crushing her lips to his, his hand still gripping her leg along the imaginary scar.

"It is over," he breathed, returning to her thigh, drawing his lips and tongue across the unbroken skin as her eyes drifted closed. Jack kissed his way up her leg, firmly and deliberately, stopping only for a moment to tease her, nipping gently through the silken fabric until she murmured small sounds of approval, then resuming his upward trek until he was stretched out along the length of her. She slid her hands over his body, convincing herself he was really there- unharmed, alive.

Sam could only manage to keep breathing as he overwhelmed every one of her senses, the familiar masculine scent of leather, aftershave and sweat all tangled in his hair with her fingers and face, sparking feelings she'd thought were all but forgotten. "Jack, I missed you- you don't know- you can't." He raised his head, tracing his lips along her throat and jaw until he held her still with his eyes.

"I do know." He interlocked his fingers with hers and buried himself in her, slow penetrations rocking her to the core as he dropped his lips beside her ear. "Never again."

Sam wordlessly implored him to hurry, her urgent motions and inchoate whispers communicating her need, but his only response was to leisurely caress her breast in the same rhythm murmuring soft obscenities into her hair until their movements pushed her into a long, agonizingly sweet climax. She choked out his name and Jack responded, his restraint finally broken, his hands on the headboard to keep their bodies from sliding on the sheets before he went rigid and lost himself in the feel of her body, her scent and the sound of his own forceful heartbeat.

The wind in the pines outside the cabin finally stirred Jack enough to move, releasing her from his weight and grasp. "You came back to me," Sam said quietly, tracing the outline of his dampened face.

"Technically," Jack gently pointed out, "you came _back_ to me."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

They walked down the road from the research facility in the early twilight, trying to cheer up Daniel as best as was humanly possible though it was a superhuman task.

"I can't believe I _missed_ all that." His eyes were barely visible under the hair that he perpetually forgot to cut.

"You like that dying thing?" Jack shrugged. "Isn't that kind of- sick?"

"No, the cultures, the discoveries, the- the- "

"Women?" Jack offered helpfully. Sam rolled her eyes.

"We wouldn't have made it if it wasn't for you, Daniel. You got us out of quite a few sticky situations."

"Oh please." Jack snorted. "He's the one who said we should _communicate_ with that computer infestation."

"_You're_ the one who shot me."

"_I _wanted to blow up the damned thing."

"Isn't that your solution to everything?" Daniel offered, tentatively.

Jack laughed and hit him on the back. "You always were sharp, if misdirected, Danny boy. C'mon, I'll buy you a beer."

"One." Sam cautioned Jack, turning into their doorway. "You know how he is."

"Oh, _God_." Daniel groaned.

"Isn't he your area of expertise?" Jack smirked as they climbed into the truck.

Sam lay face down in the bed, half asleep when she heard the truck pull up and the engine die. She smiled into her pillow, her freshly washed hair over her eyes as Jack took his turn showering away the fine Nevada dust that seemed to sift into every pore. In a few minutes the water was off and she suddenly felt the edge of the bed sink as Jack sat down and leaned over her, his body still damp as he kissed her bare shoulder.

"You're getting me wet again." Sam's muffled voice protested.

"That easy?" Jack put his lips up to her ear, his voice low and suggestive. "I'm flattered. But you'll have to give me a minute."

Sam could feel the heat rise into her face. "You're awful, O'Neill."

He rolled her over and pulled back the sheet. "You just bring out the worst in me, Carter."

---------------------------------------------------------

Several weeks later, Jack sat at the table at their house in Area 51, drinking coffee and patiently waiting for Sam to finish the Sudoku puzzle. One of the many small comforts of his new world was not having her kick his ass over the crossword puzzle every day. Jack didn't realize she couldn't bear to look at a crossword puzzle after he'd died because as far as he was concerned, she had the numbers and he had the letters and that was worth not asking any questions.

Sam looked up and smiled at him, her baby blues digging her deeper into his heart, just like they did every time, starting the day they met. As she handed him the paper, he noticed she hadn't touched her coffee. "Hey, you better not waste that. There are poor people in China who are sleeping, you know."

"It's cold now." She wrinkled her nose at it, then got up and poured it down the sink, leaving the cup on the counter. Sam noticed that he hadn't picked up the paper. "Are you all right or is the first word more than three letters long?"

"Smartass. I had something important to tell you but now I'm having second thoughts." He sat back in his chair, his casual smile covering up his nervousness completely. Or so he thought.

"No, something's wrong. What is it, Jack?" Sam was still never sure that her life was on a even keel after the events of the past few weeks. She always felt as if something completely unexpected could come in from out of the blue, like Jack O'Neill had the day she met him in the briefing room.

Jack regarded her carefully, and then tapped her wedding band. "We have to get married."

"We are, Jack."

"Not once we crossed the line."

"Colorado to Nevada?" Sam smiled, puzzled by his statement.

"Time."

"Oh." Sam's eyes widened. "You're right- I never thought about that."

"Well, don't let me pressure you." Jack said with a carefree tone he really didn't feel. "Eleven years is a long time to be a single woman." He waited as long as he could, which was not more than a few seconds, then asked, "Well?"

"Well, we'd better do it pretty soon," Sam said, nervously. Jack watched her face, suddenly worried and wondering if she really _was_ undecided, that something had happened in her former future of which he was unaware. Then she reached into the pocket of her bathrobe and pulled out a surprise of her own, sliding it across the table. "Don't let me pressure _you_, Jack."

"Is that what I think it is?" He stared at her, his dark brown eyes deep and serious.

Sam nodded.

"Does it say what I think it does?" Sam didn't see the smile starting to form on his lips.

"Yes. I'm sorry, I just wasn't…"

"You'll marry me- again?"

Sam nodded again.

Jack smiled broadly. "Kinda old-fashioned, aren't you, Sam."

"What do you mean?"

"Get yourself knocked up and then decide you'd better get hitched." He couldn't stop grinning and he couldn't stop teasing her. Ever.

"I'd marry you again anyway, you smug… jerk."

"Carter, we've got to work on your vocabulary." He got up and came around the table as she stood, shaking with relief

"No, believe me, Jack, when I took that test I exercised it _well_."

Jack laughed out loud as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. "I'll take the blame." He stroked her hair reassuringly, then suddenly stopped and looked down at her as her words finally hit home. "I thought, with the naquada, the antibodies and all the wounds it- it just wasn't possible."

"It wasn't. Janet always said so. But that's all gone, now, and I forgot. Plus, I still think I'm fifty-five sometimes." Sam sighed and wrapped her arms around him. "We really _are _staring all over again. It's almost too perfect."

Jack's hand suddenly went still, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "How far- I mean, when… Sam."

She knew instantly what he was trying to say. "Tiny, Jack. Just barely." Sam swallowed, trying to keep the tears away. " But it would have been all right. I- we- owe that part of me_ everything._ And I don't know her, I don't know her at all."

Jack waited until she stopped trembling, then tipped her chin up and kissed the last tears away. "Get dressed and come with me, Sam," he said as he turned and found the storage facility key in the drawer under the kitchen counter. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."


	7. 4 v2 And All the Science

Here are the final three chapters for those who prefer a different outcome for astronaut Sam. Some of this is recycled from the first ending, some is original- this chapter is pretty similar to the original but the final two are very different.

If I'd known I was going to do this I wouldn't have published this story in pieces to begin with, since this ending thing was the source of my indecision in the first place! With apologies to Elton John for stealing the lyrics to _Rocket Man_ for the titles. I was lazy, and they seemed appropriate. Hope you like this version, too- at least this way I got to keep the shower scene.

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**4.2 And all the science…**

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Darkness fell swiftly in Colorado Springs once the sun slipped behind the mountains, and it was night when Jack pulled up to Sam's house. She stepped out of the cab and then turned around. "Thanks, Jack. It's been an- interesting afternoon."

"Yeah." _That would be one way to describe it._

Her hand tapped briefly on the top of the doorframe. "Do you want to stay for dinner?"

"I'd hate to impose."

"Well, it's not like I'm going to do a lot more than pick up the phone."

"I know. I just thought you'd had enough of me for one day."

"There are some things I'd like to ask you, Jack." She looked worried. "I'm afraid they're going to call me any day now, to work on the stargate."

"You've heard something?" He almost jumped out of the truck.

"No. I just know when they do, it'll be me they call." She walked ahead of him and opened the front door. "It's been long enough now that they might have worked something out with Egypt."

Jack held her arm with a look of concern, and turned her to face him. "I really do mean it when I say I'd hate to be you." He knew there'd be no getting out of it for her, even if he could walk away. "If it wasn't for me you wouldn't know what you were getting in to, Sam."

She shrugged. "I'd rather know, Jack. Don't worry about it." She got the impression that he was used to doing what had to be done, regardless of the personal cost. Sam watched him walk down the hall and turn right without asking her for directions. She could hear water running in the bathroom off the hall as she walked toward the kitchen, poured two glasses of water, and sat down in the living room.

He came out in a few minutes and took his glass and drained half of it at once. "That feels better." He set the glass down and buttoned his sleeves down again, his face ruddy from washing.

"You lived here, didn't you?"

"We lived here." Jacked watched her face as the words settled into her head.

"Don't talk that way, Jack. Don't say "we."

"I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about what happened at the river. It's confusing enough to me- I have no idea how to help_ you_."

"You could start by not walking into my house like it's yours."

"It is mine."

Sam couldn't break his gaze and couldn't understand the hold he had on her. She'd met him just a few fleeting days ago, had spent nearly every waking moment with him and it seemed as if she'd known him all her life. It was if he _belonged _in that chair, in her house, in her life. "Why do I feel as if I know you?"

"I told you before I've seen other realities, other timelines. In every one, you were there."

"And we…?"

"Yeah."

"I don't believe in fate."

"Of course not, Sam. You're a scientist."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Sam," he sighed, "sometimes logic is just a systematic way of coming to the wrong conclusion." _Especially when it comes to love. You ought to know all about that._ He put his feet up on the coffee table. "Did it ever occur to you that _this _might be the best timeline even if it's not the original?"

"What, so you can have time to fish?"

"No, smartass. Because we aren't constantly looking over our shoulders, waiting for the next big galactic catastrophe."

"That's why you told them to leave the stargate alone."

Jack nodded. "I didn't know then what the problem was. I thought I was in another reality. I still think I did the right thing."

"Isn't the timeline a different issue, though?"

"You tell me."

"But Jack, what about…" Sam paused. Her thoughts were too strange to verbalize.

"What about you?" Jack said softly.

"Not just that. Everyone. Everyone you ever knew."

"I can't- I can't do anything else, Sam. I'm not sure I should." The determination and resignation in his eyes communicated more to her than his stilted words.

"You always put yourself last, don't you?"

"It was the story of our lives, Sam. You did the same thing. You'll _do_ the same thing, and that's what I'm worried about."

"The gates aren't functional. I don't have to do anything right now."

Jack couldn't help but notice her use of the plural. "Are you going to tell them?"

Her eyes narrowed in thought. "Tell me, Jack. Did I ever disobey orders?"

"Not directly. But you sure as hell took liberties in interpreting them." He smiled. "And you helped _me_ disobey them on multiple occasions."

"So I did what you asked even when it was counter to the directives from higher up."

"Yes." Jack suddenly understood where she was going with this line of reasoning. "I don't know if I have the right to ask anything of you, Sam. I can't take the hit for you if something happens, not anymore. I just want to know where you stand."

"I know. I just want to know how much to trust you."

They thoughtfully regarded each other for a few moments. "I'm not going to say anything, Jack. But don't do anything to piss me off, okay?"

"Oh no," Jack smiled, shaking his head, "I would _never _do that."

Sam wondered what he meant by that. She finished her water and set the glass on the same coffee table out of which she'd pulled a gun on him only a week earlier. "You never really answered me about the timeline, though. What does it have to do with the Stargate?"

Jack smiled weakly. "Oh God, don't ask me to explain. 'cause I really _don't_ get it, this time."

"Sorry." Sam said, unrepentantly.

"The stargate only let us move along our own timeline. We went back once, to 1969."

"I see. A traversable wormhole with one end accelerated near the speed of light. You used some kind of slingshot effect to accelerate yourselves back to the point of origin."

Jack put his head in his hands. She was the same Sam, all right. "Solar flares."

"Cool."

"Groovy, actually."

Sam tried to suppress a smile. "But did you ever alter a timeline?"

"Once, accidentally. I saw myself on a 3000 year-old videotape."

"So you must have restored the timeline."

"You always said we didn't, not perfectly." Jack smiled. "Because of the fish."

"What _is_ it with you and fish?"

Jack shrugged. "On the tape I said I had no fish in my pond. But I do. For some reason, that bugged the crap out of you."

"Well, yeah, it means we aren't actually us. But we haven't been us our whole lives so I guess it doesn't matter that much. To us." Sam mused, thinking aloud.

"Let's assume we're us, okay?"

"In theory." Sam said, still somewhat dazed.

"Come on, Sam, stay with me." Jack waved his hand in front of her face.

Sam blinked her way back to reality. "Yeah. Well, how did you go back 3000 years?"

Jack explained about the puddle jumpers. "You left that out of your interviews, too, Jack," Sam reprimanded him, more gently this time.

"For all I know, there still _is _a PJ buried out there. You know the Air Force, Sam. If it flies, they'll want to play with it. I couldn't risk it."

Sam nodded. "So you're saying the Ancients could travel through time." She paused. "What if they did this to help us? What if this isn't an act of aggression at all? How do we make the right choice?"

"I don't know." Jack drank the rest of his water and set the glass down. "I mean, we really are screwing with the fate of the whole galaxy. When we went through the gate, we helped free billions of other humans, but not now."

Sam sighed. "I know. I read your interrogations. But Jack, is that your problem? Is that our problem? I can tell you right now what the Pentagon thinks."

Jack thought of Teal'c and sighed. "I know, Sam."

"God, Jack. We don't have any idea what we're doing."

"No." Jack sat up and looked intently into her eyes. "We don't." Then Jack's cell phone rang for the first time. It took him a few seconds to figure out how to answer it.

"O'Neill- yeah, sorry- Archer." Jack listened intently. "When?" He nodded and shut the phone.

"They want us at the airfield in an hour."

"_Us?_" Sam said.

"I'm sure they've been tailing one or both of us, Sam. It's what they do."

"What for?"

"They dug up some papers in Egypt, and they mention both of us by name."

--

Jack had forgotten how slow conventional aircraft were, and he fiddled repeatedly with the seat controls and window, regretting that he'd had no time to bring a book with him.

"What's with you?" Sam asked, nervous and irritated.

"Obviously, I'm bored."

"I get that." Sam stilled his drumming fingers. "Why aren't you more worried?"

Jack smiled. "The USAF doesn't worry me, Sam. My worst nightmare is being tortured to death and resurrected over and over- yours is getting a bad write-up in your file."

"That's not true." Sam restrained a pout, barely. "I worry about being incinerated on re-entry."

"Done that, too." Jack smiled at her.

The pout escaped and Jack leaned over in his seat. "You know," he whispered, "you're cute when you're mad, Carter."

The familiarity of his manner made Sam uneasy, and she gently pushed him back. "Jack. You keep forgetting."

He touched her face with the back of his hand. "No, Sam. I keep remembering."

She took his hand down and inspected it.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left that on. It bothers you."

"I don't know. I don't know what it means." She shook her head, the look on her face both thoughtful and confused.

"Don't worry about it, Sam. Just be yourself."

"What a cliché," she rolled her eyes. "_That's_ no help."

Jack smiled briefly, and then looked at her more pensively. "What are you going to do if they ask you to work on fixing things back to how they were?"

"Well, I'll definitely need to know about the sex."

"_What?"_

"If we're married, I guess I'm entitled to know, don't you think?"

"You're having _way_ too much fun with this."

"I suddenly might find it impossible to fix the timeline. You never know."

"I never heard any complaints."

Sam assessed Jack carefully. For once, she had him off-guard, and she liked it. "All right then. Because I _would_ complain."

Jack put his head back and reclined his seat. "The airman was instructed to come back here only on command," he smiled smugly, closing his eyes. " If you want a preview of coming attractions."

Sam suddenly felt the tables turn on her, and fast, and she put her head back against the seat without saying another word. She was left with a very unsettling feeling that Jack simply knew too much, as if he'd read her personnel files, diary and medical records without her permission. It should bother her more than it did given the only thing she knew about him was whatever he chose to tell.

The plane touched down at Andrews at dawn, and a car was waiting on the tarmac to take them to the Pentagon where they were ushered into a meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

"Well," Jack said, eyeing the gathering, "I would have liked to dress for the occasion."

"Sit down, General O'Neill, Colonel Carter." AF Chief of Staff General Moseley directed. An aide slid copies of a document in front of O'Neill and Carter, and then the room went dark as the same document was flashed on a screen, and read aloud by the aide.

"To the President of the United States, or failing the existence of the Government of the United States, to the head of the governing authority most able to deal with a grave and imminent threat to the entire planet:

"In 1996, the Stargate found resting over these documents was made operational under the auspices of the United States Air Force Stargate Command. In using the stargate, the people of earth became known to the rest of the galaxy as both a formidable foe and ally. Primarily through the efforts of the flagship team SG-1, over the course of ten years the threats to earth were largely abolished and faster-than light travel became routine.

Jack and Sam stared at each other. "See. I told you. You were hot- I mean, in a military sense." Jack whispered. "Not that I don't mean…"

"Shush." Sam waved him into silence.

"Unfortunately, in 2021, a new threat arose which has systematically destroyed the inhabitants of every world in its path. We have no means to stop it. Even advanced alien technology has failed us as our Alpha and Beta sites have fallen. These losses have occurred in spite of the fact that SG-1 team member Major Samantha Carter previously encountered the entity aboard our first space vessel, the _Prometheus._ At that time, Major Carter was able to effectively negotiate with the entities or entity, but due to a head injury sustained during the incident, the ship's logs were incomplete. After the death of her husband, Home World Security Director General Jack O'Neill, in a 2008 Stargate accident, Colonel Carter retired from the military. However, we fortunately have been able to contact Dr. Carter, and in conjunction with scientists from around the world, have formulated the following plan."

"Holy crap. Sounds like I got out of there just in time."

Sam picked up Jack's hand and fervently hoped they weren't about to assign her a mission that would kill him. He just looked at their hands, then at her, then the aide without a trace of emotion except the slightest tightening of his fingers around hers.

"The only way to defend ourselves from these beings is to restore the earth to the time when the stargate program did not exist. To that end, using Ancient technology, we replaced the gate back in Egypt just before the gate was activated, so as to disrupt the timeline as little as possible. Those working on the project were transported back into the future to keep their knowledge secure."

Jack sighed. Catherine's life was some consolation.

"It is the hope of the United States Government and the undersigned heads of State from around the world that this gate remain buried and that human endeavors be directed at discovering a defense against these aliens, should our planet be re-discovered. As you have found, there are shipping containers filled with technology and documents from the Stargate program buried near the Stargate. We have also hidden a spaceship, the _Odyssey, _in Antarctica where O'Neill and Carter found the second Stargate."

Every eye in the room turned to Jack and he shrugged. Sam wondered just how much he'd gotten away with over the years. He certainly knew how to walk a very fine line.

"It has been said that those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. Ladies and Gentlemen, let us hope the same cannot be said of the future.

Cassandra Frasier, President of the United States of America."

Jack smiled. "You helped raise President Frasier. Guess they never figured out she was a _really_ illegal alien."

The lights came up.

"I don't know what to say, General. I have no memory of any of this, of course." Sam pointed out.

"General, if I may, I think I have some insight into what Carter was thinking when she came up with this plan."

_You would._ Sam shook her head and stared at him.

"Well, she absolutely insisted we never jack with the timeline, that the smallest thing could throw everything out of whack." He turned to Sam. "Am I right?"

"Yes."

"So it'd have to be something really bad for her to recommend that course of action. And she always said that whatever the thing was, it was bad, sir. 'Malevolent' is what she called it." Jack smiled at Sam. "I could never actually use a word like 'malevolent', so you know I'm not making this up."

The generals looked unconvinced.

"We've done it before, too. In a less dramatic way." Jack stated.

"What?" Sam stared at him. _More?_ Jack looked back at her. He'd withheld so much that by now he was feeling like a Tok'ra.

"Carter and I sent a note from the future, warning us about the Aschen, a race that we evidently were going to encounter. It had my blood and her fingerprints on it. The SGC took the note seriously and it did give us enough of a heads-up to avoid what would have been a fatal mistake for earth." He drank from his glass of water. Jack didn't enjoy this much talking. "If she did it once, she might do it again."

One of the other Generals sat back in his chair and looked pointedly at Sam. "You're sure she- you-" the officer shifted in his chair uncomfortably, "Wouldn't deliberately recommend the wrong course of action?"

"With all due respect, sir, I would never do that. I don't know where this line of reasoning is coming from. Sir." Carter gripped the armrests of her chair to steady herself.

"Something might have happened with the stargate and your husband that put you off the military for good. You probably would have ended up a General, perhaps even taken Moseley's job out from under him," the general said kindly, trying to defuse the situation.

"He's _not _my husband." Carter pointed out.

Jack looked at her sharply.Surely she could have picked something _else_ to contradict besides that.

"Right." The general sighed. "But do you think you'd be capable of doing this out of revenge?"

"And put us in a timeline in which it was very likely that he'd have died a whole lot sooner? That's not even logical, sir. With all due respect."

Jack rubbed his hands across his face. He'd put up with this kind of accusation being flipped back in their faces for far to many years, and to have it follow him into another timeline when he wasn't even _in_ the military was just too much. "Listen, I spent nearly the entire time I was at the SGC putting up with this kind of crap. Carter and I held the line like good little soldiers- she did everything by the book, and we didn't start seeing each other until we were clear of the regs." Jack calmly looked at the general. "So tell me this, sir, if she wouldn't even screw _me_ because of her sense of duty and honor, what makes you think she'd turn around and screw the entire world?"

Sam reached for the glass of water that sat in front of her as the room fell silent, and tried to decide whether to laugh out loud or toss the entire glassful on Jack.

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs regarded them both carefully. "We just wanted to get a handle on motivations. We weren't going to ask you to change the timeline back again, or get the gate working."

"I couldn't if I tried."

He regarded her thoughtfully. "Colonel, I believe you_ could_. From what General O'Neill has told us and what we've found in those containers, the technology out there is amazing. But acquiring more of it clearly isn't worth the risk. You've given us a head start on defending ourselves, and I think that's our best course of action."

"I didn't do anything, sir."

"You will, Carter." He smiled. "I've no doubt of that."

General Moseley turned to Jack. "General O'Neill, we'll need you to lead the expedition to Antarctica to retrieve the Odyssey, since you're the only person on the planet who is able to fly it. Colonel Carter will be your 2IC and learn how to fly the vessel from you." He slid mission files across the table to the pair.

"With all due respect, General, no." Jack said clearly. He had a way of making the room fall silent in a moment.

"No?" The General had not heard that word in quite some time, but he was not surprised to hear it coming from Jack O'Neill.

"First, I'm not in the military anymore. I'm dead, remember? Second, she's not going to be my 2IC even if your JAGs somehow come up with a way to drag me back in. Make up a different title. Co-Commander, co-pilot, whatever."

"General O'Neill…"

"No. I'm a civilian contractor. Take it or leave it. Sir." Jack sat back in his chair with his arms crossed. Sam stared at him, eyes wide.

General Moseley regarded Jack thoughtfully. "All right. When you finish the flight and the Odyssey is safely docked at Area 51, you will be_ offered_ a position debriefing the Pentagon regarding anything and everything you know about these alien races and their military capabilities." He paused. "Is that all right with you, _Mr._ O'Neill?"

"With all due respect, General, no."

"No?" Moseley felt a sense of déjà vu. He pitied the General Hammond of the other timeline.

"I'll need to stay in Area 51 going over the documents and- stuff."

"With Colonel Carter." Moseley correctly surmised.

"Yes."

General Moseley appraised Jack. "All right, O'Neill. After all, I think you've earned it. We'll send the analysts to you."

"Thank you, sir." Jack stood up and shook his hand. He turned to find Carter gone. Having lost her in one of the largest buildings in the world wasn't a deterrent, however. Within a few minutes, he found her sitting outside in the no-cover no-salute zone.

She glanced up at him, "How did you… Oh, never mind."

"This was the only place we could just talk when you would visit." Jack sat down beside her.

"Is that why you refused to be my CO?"

"Yeah."

"You're still hiding things from me, Jack."

"Yeah, and for the same reasons, too."

"What?"

"To protect you. You think it always helps to know stuff, but it doesn't." He waited, his hands in his jacket pocket, thoughts concealed behind his sunglasses.

"Maybe you do know me." Sam sighed.

"Let me get to know you- again."

She finally broke the lengthy silence, a slight smile in her voice. "Well, I guess we _do_ have a spaceship to fly."

"That's my girl." He stood up, smiling, and offered a hand. She just rolled her eyes and accepted.

--

Jack was uncharacteristically quiet as they flew back to The Springs, the late morning sun still slanting in through the windows. The sure realization that he would never go back to his world was starting to sink in and the thought of the millions of lives that would remain enslaved weighed heavily on Jack's mind. Especially the thought of Teal'c.

"Jack, there's no choice." Sam read his thoughts. "I'm sure your friends will find a way."

"I don't know. Probably doesn't matter with this new race of bastards moving in."

"Don't you think earth would share their plan with our allies?"

He had to think about that for a moment. Time travel was too confusing- even though his body had done it, his mind hadn't caught up. "No, Sam. All the humans came from earth through the gates. If _they_ go back to before there were gates on, say, Chulak, there wouldn't be any people there, either."

"Oh. I didn't know that," she nodded.

He stared at her, not quite ready to believe that he'd just taught her something that didn't involve weaponry or escaping from a cell. _It involved time travel, for crying out loud!_

"What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing." Hia smile lasted for a moment longer, but then it faded as he reached into his pocket. "After you ran off, they gave me this to give to you." Jack handed her a letter. It was addressed to her in her own handwriting. "It's not like you to do this."

"No, it isn't. I guess I figured the flap of a butterfly's wing didn't matter if I was about to unleash a tornado."

He got up to leave. "I'll leave you two alone for awhile, okay?"

She opened the letter with trembling hands. It was reminiscent of the kind of letters she'd send to herself from space camp or Girl's State. Only it was from the future, not the past.

_Dear Sam…_


	8. 5 v2 I Don't Understand

**5.2 I don't understand.**

* * *

_Dear Sam,_

_If you're reading this I'm sure we've thoroughly freaked each other out. Rest assured I haven't lost my mind (our mind?). This is for the best, and don't worry about what you might have missed. I paid a high price for the excitement._

_You will be able to figure out the information inside the containers, with a little help from an old friend. You should immediately try to find Daniel Jackson, he'll pick up on the languages and history so fast it'll make your head spin. Unfortunately, you won't have the knowledge of the Goa'uld that Teal'c possessed, or his solid friendship._

_But this letter isn't just about saving the world, Sam. I'm sure you'll do that just fine, and that's what concerns me. I'm guessing you're an astronaut. I'm hoping this letter will reach you before you've wasted too much of your life not knowing what matters. In this timeline, Dad told me that I deserved to love someone, and be loved in return. He also said not to let the rules stand in my way- can you believe that? Dad?_

Sam had to stop and chuckle. No, that was something she really couldn't picture.

"_I'm guessing you never met Jack O'Neill- he's probably dead or possibly still married to Sara if he came to his senses. We wasted a lot of time, and Jack and I only had a few years together. Don't make me the same mistake twice. If you don't have a Jack O'Neill, find one. Don't wait too long, Sam. The work can wait._

_Samantha Carter_

Attached to the back of the letter was a photograph. "Oh my God." Sam stared at the picture. It _was_ her, with Jack. She hurriedly folded up the letter with the photo tucked inside.

She got up and went back to find him.

"Learn anything?" he asked as she sat beside him.

"Yes." Sam said, her voice shaky. "I did. You don't happen to have any pictures of me, do you?"

Jack hesitated, then keeping his eyes on her the entire time, found his wallet and gave it to her.

He had a surprising number of photographs, Sam thought, for a battle-hardened general. One of Charlie, she guessed. One of what she presumed was SG-1, because they both were in the picture, along with a younger man who, despite the glasses and unruly hair, was handsome with an intelligent glint in his eyes and standing beside a tall, serious man she presumed was Teal'c.

Then there were the pictures of her. She laid the first one in her lap. She looked so young in this one, standing laughing in her BDUs, but the picture itself was old. She turned it over. Not even digital. Sam glanced over at Jack.

"Well, what's anyone going to do about it _now_?" he smiled guiltily. Sam thought back to what he'd said so coarsely back at the meeting and wondered how hard that must have been. For both of them, she was sure.

Jack thought his life really couldn't get any weirder than this. Until it did, when she pulled out a photo of him in his formal blues and her in a wedding gown. He watched her as she studied it, then pulled an identical- but slightly yellowed- photograph out of the envelope he'd given her.

"I- she loved you, Jack. Very much." Sam laid the photo down as if it were a playing card, wondering what kind of hand they'd been dealt. "I couldn't possibly replace her."

"I didn't expect you to."

"What did you expect?" She looked up at him, her eyes glistening.

He cradled her cheek in his hand. "I expected to find some help, maybe a friend. I didn't expect to fall for you all over again." Jack leaned over and kissed her. He couldn't say just when it was that he decided _she_ was _her_. It might have been what she said by the river, or the scar on her knee. Or the way she kept her wits about her in the meeting that day. But one thing he was absolutely sure about was that the woman he was kissing was Samantha Carter. _His_ Samantha Carter. It was almost as if she'd simply been away for a while- like on an extended tour at Atlantis, and they'd both missed a few things. But she was back, and they could catch up, even if it took the rest of their lives.

And on top all of that thinking- she felt like his Sam Carter. Looked, laughed, walked and talked like her. Kissed like her. Tasted like her.

"No, Jack, I can't." Sam broke the kiss and hurriedly gathered up his pictures." I can't be a stand in."

"For yourself?" He pointed out the logical inconsistency, and for once Sam had nothing but emotion to fall back on, and that was unfamiliar territory.

"I feel as if someone downloaded a program named "Jack O'Neill" straight into my head. I don't know where all this comes from."

"You don't believe in fate, and I guess you don't believe in love at first sight, either." Jack took back his wallet.

"No. Do you?"

He reclined his seat back and flipped the armrest. "Yeah. I do. It just took a really long time for me to admit it." Jack took her hand and closed his eyes. "Don't wait too long, Sam."

_Don't wait too long, Sam. _She clutched the letter and laid her head on his shoulder. Someone, somewhere, was trying to tell her something. If only she'd listen.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam lay on her couch peering at her laptop. She was eternally grateful to the computer gods that her other future had included her operating system and that she'd been- or rather was going to be- smart enough to dig up a bunch of old discs to use. She sighed. It would have been lovely to have a computer from twenty years in the future, but if it broke, no one would be able to fix it.

She knew _just_ how she thought.

The doorbell rang, and then the door opened. "Sam?"

It still irritated her how he acted as if he owned the place. "Come on… in," she said as he walked into the room.

"Learn anything?"

"Well, I think I understand how to how to get inside and find the bridge."

"You know a lot more than that." Jack said confidently. He leaned over and gently closed the computer.

"Jack!"

"You need to get outside, Sam. You're going to be vitamin E deficient."

"D," she said, sitting up.

"Whatever. Come on, it's a nice day. We'll be in roasting at Groom Lake in no time."

"I'm not going fishing."

"Can you handle a walk, for crying out loud?"

Sam stood and stretched. "All right." She got her sunglasses off of the counter and followed him out the door. "I got in touch with Daniel Jackson." Sam waited to see Jack's reaction. She wasn't disappointed.

"That's great." Jack smiled a full-fledged smile. "How is old Daniel?"

"Extremely pleased that someone believes him- but a bit confused over why." Sam smiled. "I think I'm going to like him."

Jack looked over at her. "That's pretty much what you said the first time."

"Are you just going to plant them in my head one by one?"

"What?"

"Memories." Sam looked straight ahead, her hands in her jacket pockets.

"That's not what I'm doing." Jack said, darkly. "It's just the past. If it didn't involve you then all you'd be thinking is that I was _sharing."_

Sam suddenly felt extraordinarily self-absorbed. Her entire world was intact and more exciting than ever- while his had been taken away, whole. The least she could do was to let him reminisce. "Sorry, Jack. I just feel ordinary and boring next to- her."

"You're her." Jack reminded her as he took her hand and veered off the sidewalk to a tiny neighborhood park, sitting Sam down on a park bench beside him. "When I was in Special Forces, a buddy of mine had a bad knock on the head." He stretched his arms along the backrest of the bench and watched a father playing with his son and daughter on the slide.

"Great, now I'm a trauma case." _Nice. Still feeling sorry for yourself, Sam?_

"Shut up, Carter." Jack was only half-joking in his brusqueness. "It took him a long time to come around and get back to his former duties. He didn't remember very much, either, but everyone stuck by him until he felt like his old self again."

Sam looked at him, waiting for Jack to get to the point.

"I'll stick by you, too, Sam. Until you feel like your new self again."

"How can I feel like someone I should have become?" She was getting used to talking like this, and that alone was alarming enough.

Jack sighed and shook his head slightly. "When are you going to trust me, Sam? " He put his arm around her shoulder, and removed his sunglasses. "I've seen footage of you in action, Commander. I know you can do it"

Sam smiled. "I do appreciate the encouragement, Jack."

"It's not encouragement. It's a statement of fact." He hugged her to him and kissed her temple. "I've seen you do it."

Sam nodded, grateful that she had him there to support her. He absolutely and steadfastly believed in her, and that was something she had rarely, if ever, known before. Sure, NASA trusted her with a multibillion-dollar piece of equipment, but human error _had_ been the cause of the Challenger disaster; and there was always the possibility that human could be the pilot, next time. And that pilot could be her.

But she'd read Jack's statements about SG-1 and noticed he simply trusted her judgment. He never questioned her when it came to the science end of things. Sure, he'd complain, especially if something was taking too long or was too esoteric and especially if it was _both- _ but his implicit faith in her abilities was both humbling and inspiring at the same time. Sam placed her hand over his. "Okay, Jack. But you'd better let me get back to work, then."

"Not tonight." Jack said as they stood up.

"No?"

"You've got packing to do." He smiled and replaced his glasses.

The words didn't sound the way they felt. Sam glanced at him with a look of bewilderment. "Yeah, I- I guess I do."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam shoved the last of her things in the duffle bag just as the doorbell rang. Wearily, she checked the date and time, wondering if the car was early or she was late. So much had happened in the last forty-eight hours that she had lost track of just about everything.

She grabbed her bag and opened the door.

"Going somewhere?"

"Jack."

He looked at her bag. "We're not leaving until tomorrow."

"Oh." Sam looked at it as if she'd never seen it before. She set it back in the foyer. "Come on in. I'm just a little disoriented, I guess."

"A shuttle pilot?" Jack raised his eyebrows. "Disoriented? You fly upside down and see sixteen days in a day."

Sam gave him a disgruntled looked and stepped back so he could enter. "I wasn't expecting any visitors."

"I just wanted to see my house one last time before you sell it." Jack walked past her and tossed his coat on the chair. "And by the way, I want half."

Sam looked at him in utter shock. "No. I need a new house."

"So do I." Jack flopped down onto the couch and put his feet on the coffee table, a small smile playing at the edge of his mouth. "We always hung on to this house as sort of a base of operations."

Sam stared at him. "I'm never going to get used to this."

"Reality's just an illusion. Although a really persistent one." Jack put his arm around her shoulder as she sat down beside him. "You were always the one to think outside the box, Sam."

"Jack, I'm really tired. I don't want to talk anymore about whatever I used to do, whoever I used to be. I'm not that way, now. Don't you get it? Doesn't anyone? They think I can fly the _Odyssey_ and decipher literally tons of information just because my _name_ was on those papers." In her fatigue and frustration, she'd completely forgotten Jack's words from the previous day.

Jack had always considered himself to be a patient man, a quality he found essential to surviving his stint in Special Forces. But there were times when something inside him would snap, and this was one of them.

"Dammit, Sam! It's not what you know, it's what you can _learn_. If not you- who? Know anyone else who can fly a shuttle, take it apart and put it back together- with no parts left over?"

Sam reluctantly shook her head.

"People want you for who you are, not who you were."

"Including you?"

"Yeah."

"You can tell?" She asked, doubtfully.

"I met you before in two different realities. I knew it wasn't you- but you're you this time."

"I can't believe I understood that." Sam sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "Maybe I am getting used to it."

"Told ya." He looked down at her. "Besides, I'm_ glad_ you can't remember all that stuff we went through." Jack combed her hair back with his hand, letting the strands drop slowly through his fingers.

"Really?" She closed her eyes under the rhythmic spell of his touch.

"Yeah." He spoke more calmly now, his voice quieter. "You 'd wake up at least twice a week screaming. All the weird stuff, people dying- even what we had between us was screwed up for years." He kept stroking her hair, fascinated by the soft texture. Sam didn't torture her hair like so many women did. "We all had our minds messed with, but yours especially."

"I guess it wasn't all just fun and games."

"Mostly it was one disaster after another." Jack gently kissed her face. "I'm glad you missed that."

"That can't be right, Jack. These flashbacks- how can I help you? Who are you going to talk to about them?"

"I've never been big on talking." He held her face steady with his hands, kissing her deeply, her mouth conforming to his perfectly. His soft touch took her by surprise- even his hair was smoother than she would have believed, but she could feel the strength tensing in his body, remembered how he looked by the river, and waited, aching to find out what was under that gentle veneer.

"I'll get better just because you are." Jack kissed her carefully, over her left eyebrow "You had a scar from shrapnel here." He could smell her shampoo, the same kind she'd always used but this time it seemed strangely exotic and it drew him in. He let his lips drift slowly down her neck and felt Sam draw in a quick breath under the gentle pressure over the soft skin of her throat as her hands threaded through his hair. Jack's fingers touched her collarbone and he unbuttoned her blouse enough to let him trace a path almost to her right shoulder. "And a laser blast here." He kissed that spot too, right above her breast, her heart pounding beneath his lips.

"Is this a guided tour?" Sam said through uneven breaths.

"Shh. I'm not done," Jack whispered as he finished with her blouse. "You were shot here and nearly died." He drew his fingers across her side, caressing her back and hips with warm, strong hands that very nearly encircled her entire waist. "But I can't show you the last one with those jeans on."

"I see." Sam shivered as his mouth moved several inches down from her shoulder wound.

"Fortunately, I also know where the bedroom is."

Jeans off, Jack laid her back on the bed and ran his hand up her leg to her thigh, tracing a line across it. "I was sure we'd find you dead that day." Jack looked at her, his eyes dark. For an instant, he saw her hair matted and dirty, blood on her deathly pale face as she handed him the weapon's computer chip just as the shadow of the monster fell across them both.

Sam touched his face. "Jack, it never happened." Her words jerked him away from the nightmare, and he focused on her eyes. Sam saw his fear for her dissolve at that moment, replaced by passion and something bordering on desperation as he bent over her, crushing her lips to his, his hand still gripping her leg along the imaginary scar.

"I can't forget," he breathed, returning to her thigh, drawing his lips and tongue across the unbroken skin as her eyes drifted closed. Jack kissed his way up her leg, firmly and deliberately, stopping only for a moment to tease her, nipping gently through the silken fabric until she murmured small sounds of approval, then resuming his upward trek until he was stretched out along the length of her. He slid his hands over her body, convincing himself she was really there- unharmed, alive.

Sam could only manage to keep breathing as he overwhelmed every one of her senses, the masculine scent of leather, aftershave and sweat all tangled in his hair with her fingers and face, sparking familiar feelings she never knew she had. Every touch, every kiss, every time she felt the barely restrained pressure of his teeth was perfectly orchestrated to drive her insane. Just as she knew he would- leaving her to feel awkward and uncertain. "I don't know what you want."

He raised his head, tracing his lips along her throat and jaw until he held her still with his eyes. "I do know." He interlocked his fingers with hers and buried himself in her, slow penetrations rocking her to the core as he dropped his lips beside her ear. "I'll do better than the first time."

Sam wordlessly implored him to hurry, her urgent motions and inchoate whispers communicating her need, but his only response was to leisurely caress her breast in the same rhythm murmuring soft obscenities into her hair until their movements pushed her into a long, agonizingly sweet climax. She choked out his name and Jack responded, his restraint finally broken, his hands on the headboard to keep their bodies from sliding on the sheets before he went rigid and lost himself in the feel of her body, her scent and the sound of his own forceful heartbeat.

Jack finally stirred enough to move, releasing her from his weight and grasp. "I think you did do better." Sam whispered, catching her breath as she kissed his damp shoulder.

"Better than _whom_?" Jack demanded. _Damn, she's got some nerve._

"The first time."

"Oh. That- thanks." Jack smiled sheepishly and kissed her forehead, then turned to grab the bedcovers that had mysteriously ended up on the floor.

"Do you have nightmares, too?" Sam asked, nestling sleepily next to Jack.

"Not since I met you."

"Why is that?" Sam looked up at him, puzzled.

He touched her face. "I always had the same one."

Sam studied him for a long while, and the she nodded thoughtfully and put her head back down. Within a few minutes, her even breathing confirmed she was asleep. "Don't go through a stargate," he whispered, kissing the top of her head, "and they'll never come back."

----------------------------------------------------

Jack woke to the irritating cheerfulness of the chickadees outside in the trees, and an empty bed. The sun hadn't even crested the horizon when he oulled on his jeans and wandered through the house until he found her, looking out the kitchen window, waiting patiently for the sun to rise.

"Hey." He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck, but her body didn't shift back into him and she remained quiet for a few moments.

"I don't think I can handle this."

Jack knew she didn't mean the work.

"If you had to choose, who would you pick?"

"There's no right answer to that question." For Sam or for him, he knew. "Why can't you just accept it- accept me?"

"I'll never know what's behind anything you do or say, Jack." Sam set her coffee down on the counter. "I'll never know your reasons."

Jack spun her around, a little harder than he intended, but he didn't apologize. "Does anybody? Our reasons are just a little more screwed up than other people's, that's all. Nobody knows the _reason_ for any of this." He looked intently into her eyes, grey in the dim morning light. "Only that it's there. Here." He kissed her with conviction, leaving no room for doubt or for her to slip out from between him and the counter, because they both knew she'd run.

"Tell me what it said." Jack held her shoulders and whispered into her hair, still tangled from where he'd twisted it the night before. "The letter."

"I said to call Daniel."

"You put our wedding picture in to remind yourself to call Daniel." Jack let the incongruity of the statement make its own case. "Tell me," he demanded, his thumb tracing the sun's first rays along the curve of her neck.

"I told myself to find somebody like you," Sam put her hand on his chest, "ten years after you had died."

"You did?" He switched his focus to her eyes and Sam saw love so profound she steeled herself, ready for her heart to snap. She watched him, and waited, feeling his heart beat beneath her hand, thinking of all he'd lost- but her heart didn't break. It beat in time to his.

"It's really a love letter. To you." Sam reached into her pocket, and then held out the letter, worn from folding and re-folding but not from time. He hesitated to take it. "Read it, Jack."

There was enough light now that he had no trouble making out the familiar writing, and the memories poured over him but he knew he didn't have to try to forget. Not anymore. Jack folded up the letter, full of gratitude and love for the woman who'd written it and given it to him. "There's only one thing I want to know, Sam." He slipped it back into its envelope and lifted his eyes to catch hers. "Do you think you could love me like that again some day?"

Then Sam realized her heart really wasn't past the point of breaking, and she held him close until his lips and hands convinced her that she really had gotten out of bed much too early.


	9. 6 v2 It's Just My Job Five Days a Week

**6.2 It's just my job five days a week.**

* * *

Their pilot set them down at the coordinates mentioned in the terabytes of documents Sam had been analyzing ever since they left Washington. He shut down the rotors and they waited for the others to arrive. 

"So, what's out here on this godforsaken piece of ice, ma'am?"

"John, it's alright to dispense with the ma'am."

"Okay, Colonel." He smiled at her, eyes shaded by classic aviators.

Jack was damned if he'd let Sheppard flirt with Sam in this timeline or any other. "You bring the radar, kid?"

"Yup."

"Good. Go get it out."

"Yes, sir." John opened the door with a rush of frigid air.

"Don't call me, 'sir'. I'm not military anymore."

"I can't help it. I'm a Southerner, sir. I was taught to address my elders that way." John smiled and shut the door.

Jack wanted to kick his ass, but then he realized neither he nor Carter could fly a helicopter.

"Why don't you like him?" It would be hard not to notice the tension since Jack first laid eyes on him.

"He's a womanizer, Sam."

"You know him." She didn't have to say from where.

"Yeah."

"Well, Jack, I survived a decade at NASA, I'm not worried about a helicopter pilot."

_She doesn't like secrets. _"He was your 2IC at Atlantis."

"You're kidding me." Sam blew out a breath slowly and regarded John as he covered the ground penetration radar with a tarp.

It was as beautiful a day as it could be in Antarctica, though they were cutting it close in terms of the winter season. The sky was piercingly blue against the white expanse of ice, and for once, the wind was minimal. Sam walked alongside the radar unit as it was dragged across the ice, peering at the readout. "I don't get it. There's no change."

"Change?" Jack asked, as if he expected to understand the answer.

"Yeah, I just keep getting a steady reflection about five meters down, I need to see a change in the pattern, like the edge of something. The edge of the ship."

"It's a big ship."

"I know, I read the specs."

"No, I mean it's_ big._"

"Maybe we should go the other way."

"Keep going. You'll see."

Jack couldn't read her expression since her face was completely covered, but she walked another dozen meters and suddenly stopped. "Wait!" The snowmobile driver halted, and then followed her hand motions to back up.

"Wow. This is the edge." She looked back at the group of helicopters in the distance.

Jack smiled, reading her mind. "Yeah, Carter. You're going to fly this."

---------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh my God, Jack." Sam said, standing on the bridge.

"That good?" he said, sounding hurt.

She shook her head and blushed a little, hoping no one else heard that. "You're awful."

"Yeah." He gave her a sly grin and sat down in the commander's chair, promptly powering up the vehicle.

A collective gasp echoed through the bridge as the lights flicked on and the engines began to hum.

"Probably I can just bust through this ice, don'tcha think?" Jack asked her.

Sam felt a little uneasy. "I only read about it, Jack."

He ignored her uncertainty. "Well?" She'd have an answer. He knew it.

Sam looked at him. "No. Let's try something else." She turned to the weapons officer's station as she radioed to the surface. "Clear the area to a radius of three miles." The radio crackled back. "That's what I said." She sat down and shrugged. "I figured one mile for the shuttle, tack on another couple for unknown technology and size."

In a few minutes she had an affirmative reply. She glanced at Jack, "Here goes nothing," and turned on the shields.

"Damn, she was right." Sheppard said, peering through his binoculars at the explosion of ice three miles away. The water vapor and ice particles cleared, and the small group watched the _Odyssey_ lift slowly out of its icy grave. "Holy shit. To hell with 'copters," John whispered to himself, feeling his life plan changing gears.

"Engage the sublight engines," Jack directed, and Sam complied. "Cool. I always wanted to say that."

"_What?"_ Sam looked at him, eyes wide.

"They asked me if I could fly it, not if I _did_." He smirked. "I flew a much earlier model, once."

"I would really like to hurt you right now. Jack." Sam sat down and stared at him.

"Hey, Carter," Jack smirked, "I told you someone always beat me to it. But not today."

"Oh for crying out loud!"

Jack just smiled and Sam set the coordinates for Nevada.

-------------------------------------------

"Base housing. Ugh." Sam switched on the light and dropped her bag on the floor.

"Yeah, this looks like it's decorated in ancient geek."

Sam gave him a sharp look. "I was going to ask you in but forget it, now."

Jack put his arms around her waist. "Carter, you're the least geeky geek I know."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Yeah," Jack kissed her, shutting the door with one hand.

"I'd offer you a drink, but obviously I don't have anything." Sam wriggled free, then took him by the hand over to the couch.

"Don't be so sure."

It sounded as if Jack was up to something so she bypassed the couch, walking instead into the tiny kitchenette. She opened the refrigerator and was surprised to find it reasonably well-stocked, as were the cupboards. "Blue Jell-o!"

Jack smiled and sat down. "Some things never change."

"Most things, apparently." Sam took a beer over to the couch. "Thank you, Jack. But I don't like Guinness."

"You will." He took the bottle from her. "Where's yours?"

"I thought I'd take a shower. I won't be long." She kissed him, picked up her bag and walked back into the depths of the unit.

Jack heard the water come on and briefly entertained the thought of letting her shower in peace. Then he put down the beer and followed the sound, letting himself in the bathroom quietly.

"Jack?" Sam heard the door shut.

"You were expecting someone else?"

"I'll be out in a minute." Sam smiled and quickly rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. She knew he had to be as hot and tired as she was. They'd had one hell of a day.

"I was hoping you wouldn't be." The tone of his voice meant there was no mistaking his intent even if she hadn't heard the words, and Sam's breathing quickened. Then the door opened, and he stepped in.

"It's a small shower," she protested, weakly.

"Aw. That's too bad." He pulled her against him in the warm, wet enclosure, holding the back of her head against the force of his kiss. Sam felt his hand leave her back for a moment and return with the soap. "Miss any spots?" he murmured against her lips.

"No."

"That's too bad, too." He took the soap and ran it over her, slowly, not missing any spots, either. He put it back and moved his hands over her slippery skin while she kissed his neck, eyes closed, water streaming down her face, until the torment was just too much and her hands found him, rigid and slick.

Jack gritted his teeth and pushed against her, his hands gripping her soft, curvaceous derriere. The sensible thing would have been to stop, dry off, and find the bedroom. Or at least stop and find the bedroom. But Jack had stopped thinking sensibly the second she'd said she was going to take a shower.

"Jack," Sam whispered, barely audible above the sound of the water, her voice not making it any easier, and then he realized with a surge of disappointment that her hands had shifted to his shoulders. Then she was pulling him down, his back against the wall, her mouth on his.

Jack slid down, ending up on the floor with Sam on his lap, her exquisitely long legs somehow crossed behind his back. He put his head back against the wall as she slid over him, and wrapped his strong hands around her hips. He couldn't verbalize what she was doing to him, the impossible maddening feel of her body all around him as he tightened his grasp and helped her move, wet friction, pressure and heat exposing their mutual passion for each other.

The feel and sound of the warm pattering water together with Sam's steady rocking was erotically hypnotic, and she felt as if she'd reached another level of existence altogether, her forehead resting on his hard, muscled shoulder, her eyes closed under the spell. Jack's movements became more urgent, his mouth on her breast more insistent, his thumbs indenting her hips, her rhythm breaking under his primal desire. He groaned out her name against her throat, pulling her down against him as his hips jerked violently with one last powerful thrust, pushing her into her own torrent of feeling. Sam clasped him tightly to her until the waves of her orgasm subsided, and then he slumped back against the wall pulling her with him.

"Hell of an idea, Carter." Jack felt the water hit his face as he relaxed.

"It's physics." Sam murmured into his ear, unable to see his fleeting look of confusion as the words clicked into their place in his memory. She untangled herself from him and shut off the water. Jack was content to simply enjoy the view as she stepped out of the shower, but then noticed it got cold fast and the floor was hard. Damn hard.

"Hey, help an old guy out, here."

Sam continued to watch him as she finished towel drying her hair. Jack like the effect that had on her chest, but he still wanted to get up with as little work as possible, given his weakened condition.

"What a baby." Sam held out her hand, and he got up.

"I have a bad back, you know."

"I know. Bad knees, too."

"So you were just thinking of me? How sweet of you, Sam." He whipped his towel around her waist with a smirk, and pulled her to him.

"You're getting me wet again."

"Really?" Jack put his lips up to her ear, his voice low and suggestive. "I'm impressed. But you'll have to give me a minute."

Sam could feel the heat rise into her face. "You _are_ awful, O'Neill."

"You just bring out the worst in me, Sam."

---------------------------------------------------------

Several weeks later, Jack sat at the table in Sam's apartment, drinking coffee and patiently waiting for Sam to finish the Sudoku puzzle. One of the many small comforts of this timeline was not having her kick his ass over the crossword puzzle every day. She had the numbers and he had the letters and that was a very good thing, he mused.

But there was something else he wanted her to have and he just didn't know when to mention it. He'd been thinking about it since they were o the plane to Washington, but he knew his perception of the situation was completely off. He hoped his timing wasn't, too.

Sam looked up and smiled at him, her baby blues digging her deeper into his heart, just like they did every time, starting the day they met so many years and a timeline ago. As she handed him the paper, he noticed she hadn't touched her coffee. "Hey, you better not waste that. There are people in India who are sleeping, you know."

"It's cold now." She wrinkled her nose at it, then got up and poured it down the sink, leaving the cup on the counter. Sam noticed that he hadn't picked up the paper. "Are you all right or is the first word more than three letters long?"

"Smartass. I had a surprise for you but now I'm having second thoughts." He sat back in his chair, his casual smile covering up his uncertain thoughts completely. Or so he thought.

"No, something's wrong. What is it, Jack?" Sam was still never sure that her life was on an even keel after the events of the past few months. She always felt as if something completely unexpected could come in from out of the blue, like Jack O'Neill had the day she met him on the sidewalk.

Jack regarded her carefully, then dug down in his pocket. He set the gold band on the table and slid it across to her with one finger. "It was yours once. It can be again, any time you're ready, Sam."

Sam swallowed hard and looked up at him. "Oh, Jack." She didn't pick it up, but she knew it fit her perfectly.

Jack was relieved she hadn't rejected it out of hand, but she really hadn't given him an answer. Not that he'd actually asked her a question. He waited as long as he could, which was not more than a few seconds, then asked, "Well?"

"Well, I guess I'll be ready pretty soon," Sam said, nervously. Jack watched her face, wondering what was wrong. She reached into the pocket of her bathrobe and pulled out a surprise of her own, and slid it across the table. "Something else that was yours once. I hope you're ready, Jack."

"Is that what I think it is?" He stared at her, his deep brown eyes deep and serious.

Sam nodded.

"Does it say what I think it does?" Sam didn't see the smile starting to form on his lips.

"Yes. I'm sorry, I just wasn't…"

"You'll marry me?"

Sam nodded again.

Jack smiled broadly. "Kinda old-fashioned, aren't you, Sam."

"What do you mean?"

"Get yourself knocked up and then decide you'd better get married." He couldn't stop grinning and he couldn't stop teasing her. Ever.

"I'd marry you anyway, you smug… jerk."

"Carter, we've got to work on your vocabulary. You really _don't_ sound like a pilot." He got up and came around the table as she stood, shaking with relief.

"No, believe me, Jack, when I took that test I had it covered."

Jack laughed out loud as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. "I'll take the blame." He stroked her hair gently, then suddenly stopped and looked down at her as her words finally registered. "You'd marry me anyway?"

"I did once, and we were happy, weren't we?"

"Yeah."

"There's no possible way I'd marry the wrong man. It's a miracle I would marry anyone at all."

"So- you're drawing a logical conclusion?" Jack thought that deductive reasoning didn't seem like a great way to decide whether or not to marry somebody. "Shouldn't you maybe have some _feelings_ about it?"

"Well, of course I do love you…"

"Of _course_." Jack was glad it was so damned obvious to _her_.

"But a little extra evidence is nice."

Jack slipped his hand inside her bathrobe and ran it over her still-flat stomach. "I think you already have that."

"If that's how you feel about it." Sam finally relaxed enough to smile as she looped her arms around his neck.

"It is." He kissed her, loving and passionate at the same time, his hands slipping across her skin to her back.

"Who's going to be your best man?"

Jack grinned. "I know just the man for the job."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well, I don't know, Jack." Daniel said with mock indecision, "she's the one who changed the timeline on me, after all."

"Daniel..." Sam warned him, "You're supposed to congratulate us, not pout."

"I just can't believe I _missed_ all that." His eyes were barely visible under the hair that he perpetually forgot to cut, but there was no mistaking the mischief in them. Daniel never was a good liar.

"You like that dying thing?" Jack shrugged with a smile. "Isn't that kind of- sick?"

"No, the cultures, the discoveries, the- the- "

"Women?" Jack offered helpfully.

Sam rolled her eyes. "We wouldn't have made it if it wasn't for you, Daniel. You got us out of quite a few sticky situations."

"Oh please." Jack snorted. "He's the one who said we should _communicate_ with that computer infestation."

"_You're_ the one who shot me."

"_I _wanted to blow up the damned thing."

"Isn't that your solution to everything?" Daniel offered, tentatively.

Jack laughed and hit him on the back. "You always were sharp, if misdirected, Danny boy. C'mon, I'll buy you a beer."

"One." Sam cautioned Jack, turning into their doorway. "You know how he is."

"Oh, God." Daniel groaned.

"Isn't he your area of expertise?" Jack smirked as they climbed into the truck.

Daniel studied the man he'd known for a few weeks who'd somehow become his closest friend despite Jack's annoying impatience, cockiness and utter disdain for scientific endeavors. "Okay, Jack, I'll make a deal."

"You want to strike a deal to be my best man? Where'd you learn your manners?"

"Emily Post." Daniel stated with confidence. "_Etiquette in Society, in Business, in Politics and at Home, _but I'm sure they didn't have timeline-nullified remarriages in 1922."

"All right, what?" Jack said, irritably, as they got out and headed into what passed for a bar in Area 51.

"Show me how to shoot a p-90."

Jack grinned. "I'd hoped never to touch one again, but for you, Daniel- anything." He opened the door to the bar and motioned Daniel in.

"Oh well, then, forget the P-90. I want Sam."

"Except that." Jack followed him in. "She _is_ the deal, remember?"

"Oh." Daniel studied Jack closely as they seated themselves at a table. "She does know she's getting the raw end of it, right?"

Jack smiled wryly. "I knew there was a downside to finding you."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, neither one considering the whole conversation to be odd for coworkers who'd met only weeks earlier. Daniel finally let curiosity get the best of him. "You mentioned the women… I suppose you dashing military types had one on every planet."

"You know Daniel, I was too busy trying to save my ass to notice," Jack ordered a pitcher, just for fun, "but I'd say the sensitive sociopolitical nerds were the clear winners." He believed in need-to-know, and didn't think Daniel needed to know about Sha'-re.

Daniel smiled briefly, trying not to add that to the growing list of things to resent about his life, which was actually really looking up right now.

"I just settled for the most important woman on the most important planet."

"Yeah," Daniel mused, "I guess that's not really a stretch. She is that important."

"Not to the world, Daniel," Jack said, pouring the glasses. "To me."

Daniel smiled and raised his. "To you."

_Yeah. I can drink to that_.


End file.
